


The Ruins Of Our Past

by tj_teejay



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Fic Exchange, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Post-Season/Series 02, Recovery, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tj_teejay/pseuds/tj_teejay
Summary: Ten years later, and Foggy thought he’d closed the chapter of former law partner and best friend Matt Murdock a long time ago. However, an unexpected phone call is about to change all that in an instant.





	1. Give Way Before The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katbelle/gifts).



> **Bingo Prompt:** Major Injuries
> 
>  **Author's Note:** I started writing this fic when all the Daredevil X-mas Exchange 2016 fic prompts were made public for people to write more than one story if they felt inspired. This was before the actual gift fics were revealed. This one grabbed my attention and I started writing.
> 
> Incidentally, the actual gift fic written for Katbelle was also for this prompt, which I didn’t know at the time. And while my fic is similar (obviously — given the nature of it being prompt fic), I hope it’s still different enough. I sure didn’t mean to write a comparison piece or anything like that. And I did very much like the version that the assigned x-mas exchange author wrote.
> 
> For the sake of not making this into science fiction, I shall assume that, in ten years’ time, people will still have mobile phones. This fic disregards the events that happen in The Defenders and veers into AU-ish territory after season 2 of Daredevil.
> 
> Thanks to Ash and Kerry (who is seriously one of the best beta readers out there!) for keeping this thing on track. You guys rock my world!
> 
> Here is the prompt as it was requested. I think I ticked all the super bonus points except for the last one because my headcanon just won’t want to run with that one. And thanks, but I don’t want any firstborns. :-)
> 
>  
> 
> _Please break my heart._
> 
>  
> 
> _Post-Season 2, Matt and Foggy never made up. Each moved on; years later, Foggy is a successful partner at a prestigious law firm, has a family, is Fully Accomplished. Matt is... still Matt, working in a dingy office at day and Daredeviling at night. They haven't spoken since the Castle fiasco._
> 
>  
> 
> _And then one day Foggy gets a call from a hospital. It turns out that Matt's never taken his name off the emergency contact person list. They meet, for the first time in years, at the hospital. Cue talking between people who are now strangers to one another. Honesty because hey, the doctors here don't think Matt'll be leaving anyway so what's the harm. Possibly crying._
> 
>  
> 
> _SUPER BONUS POINTS AND MY UNDYING GRATITUDE (and possibly my sister's firstborn):_  
>  _\+ Matt gets worse and Foggy ends up taking him off life support because he knows (even after all these years) that Matt would want that_  
>  _\+ Foggy's kid(s) ask(s) him why does he keep going to the hospital and Foggy tells him about Matt for the first time_  
>  _\+ Foggy's wife and kid(s) come visit Matt too and absolutely LOVE HIM_  
>  _\+ Matt has been in love with Foggy since Day 1 but never said anything_

+-+-+-+-+

The call came late on a Sunday morning in May. The number wasn’t one he recognized. Local, judging by the area code. “Hello?” he answered.

“Is this Franklin Nelson?” a female voice asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Carol Burch from Mount Sinai Hospital. I have you listed as emergency contact for Matthew Murdock.”

Immediately, Foggy’s throat went dry. _Matthew Murdock._ That was a name he hadn’t heard in years. “Er… yes?” was all he could reply.

“Mr. Murdock was admitted this morning. Can you tell us how to reach his next of kin?”

“He, uhm… He doesn’t have anyone. Is he— What happened?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to share any details of Mr. Murdock’s condition. If he doesn’t have any next of kin, do you know who is qualified to make any medical decisions for him?”

What? Foggy’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Medical decisions? That— That sounded bad. Like it was something serious. Bad enough for Matt not being able to make decisions himself. “I, uh... I used to be his medical proxy.”

“Used to be?”

“Yeah, we’re not close anymore, it’s—”

“Franklin?” Joanna, his wife, called from the corridor. “We’re ready to go.”

She appeared in the doorway with a questioning look on her face. They’d been getting ready to take a trip with the kids.

Foggy made a quick, ‘Not now!’ gesture in her direction. He turned his attention back to the phone conversation and said to the person at the other end, “I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?”

“Can you find out whom we need to contact about Mr. Murdock’s condition?”

“Not before you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Nelson, but I really cannot tell you over the phone. All I can say is that he’s in critical condition.”

Fuck. “Okay,” was all he could say. “I’m gonna... I’m gonna come to the hospital. Which ward?”

“He's in the ICU at the moment. But, again, we would need proof of you being his medical proxy before we can share information with you.”

Foggy swallowed. “Okay, I'll see what I can do. Thank you.”

Jesus Christ. Matt in critical condition. Matt Murdock, best friend once, persona non grata now. What the fuck had happened? What was he to do now?

He vaguely registered a voice addressing him. “Franklin? Honey?”

“Huh, what?”

“What happened?”

He realized he was still staring at his phone whose screen had gone blank. “It's… it's Matt. He's in the hospital. Mount Sinai just called.”

“Which Matt?

“My, uh… My old roommate from university.”

“Wasn’t he also your former law partner?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are they calling you about it?”

“They wouldn't tell me anything, just that he's in critical condition. I need to—I need to go there.”

His wife was frowning. “I thought you weren't on speaking terms.”

“We're not, but… it's complicated. He doesn't have any family. I used to be his emergency contact. Guess I still am. They said they need—”

Foggy pocketed his phone and went into the study. Joanna started protesting, but Ellie and Mia were starting to loudly fight over something, and she had to intervene.

The twins were a handful sometimes. At eight years old, Ellie and Mia were Foggy’s pride and joy, and they were no doubt anxious to be on their way to the Bronx Zoo right now—Mia’s all-time favorite place for the last two years, so they visited more often than Foggy liked.

Foggy wasn't sure where to start looking for the paperwork he knew he had stored somewhere. Matt and he were both lawyers. They'd made sure all the Ts were crossed and the Is dotted. Or had he thrown it out when they moved to their house?

As he rummaged through some of the folders at the bottom of the shelf, he wondered how the hell he’d gotten dragged into Matt Murdock’s life again. He thought he had closed that chapter a long time ago.

He finally found the papers tucked away neatly in a bright red folder. Joanna lingered in the doorway, watching him warily. “Franklin, what's going on?”

“I need to go to the hospital. I'm sorry, but can you take the kids by yourself?”

She looked puzzled. “Not unless I absolutely have to. You said you and Matt didn't part on good terms. You haven't spoken in, what? Ten years?”

“I know this may seem a little odd, but Matt… He doesn't have anyone. At least I don't think he does. They said he’s in critical condition, so at the very least, I need to go and find out what's going on. I promise I'll explain it to you later, okay?”

She hesitated, so he added, “I’m really sorry. I know this is all very sudden and kinda weird, but I… I have to do this. Please, Jo.”

She gave him a tentative nod. “Okay.”

He walked over to her and gave her a peck on the mouth. “Thank you.”

+-+-+-+-+

Seeing a severely injured Matt lying in an ICU bed, Foggy realized he was way, _way_ out of his depth.

He’d shown the paperwork about him being Matt’s medical proxy to the nurses and got that part straightened out fairly quickly. They had a lot of questions for him, most of which he couldn’t answer. They let him see Matt right after that when he asked.

The ICU itself was intimidating enough, but Matt among the white, starchy sheets was a shock to the system. He tried to remember how many years it was exactly since they’d parted ways. Nine, maybe ten. Too long. Or not long enough. He didn’t want to decide.

According to the hospital personnel, Matt had been shot. The bullet had hit the liver, and he’d lost a lot of blood, which the blood transfusions that fed intravenously into his arm bore witness to. He was being kept under sedation, because apparently he’d been disoriented and borderline hostile. Foggy had to hide a cynical grin at that. Some things would never change.

He stood by the end of the bed, staring and staring, trying to find answers in the details. Matt’s hair was disheveled but not greasy. His chin sported stubble that was on the way to a full grown beard. Foggy was taken aback to see that patches of it were going grey.

The shadows under Matt’s eyes could be from the blood loss, but just as well from whatever lifestyle Matt was leading these days. Was he even still practicing law? How was Matt earning his living?

Foggy did know that Matt’s Daredevil activities were still very much on the agenda, since every now and then he’d pop up in the news. But nothing major anymore in recent years, and Foggy tried not to pay attention whenever it happened. He’d become quite skilled at separating the night-time hero from the person he’d once considered a friend.

Foggy could make out a few bruises and cuts on Matt’s face, but it was hard to tell if they were hours or days old. His gaze glided to Matt’s hands, and pink tint to his knuckles. More signs of his vigilante persona at work.

But all in all, Matt looked surprisingly peaceful for the fact that he seemed to be barely hanging on to life, with machines and perfusors and IV bags all around him working hard to keep it that way.

Foggy swallowed and found one of the visitor’s chairs by the wall, collapsing into it with a sigh. He couldn’t help but stare at the person over there in the bed, the person he’d once known better than anyone in his life, but who was now a complete stranger to him. It seemed like he was trapped in a bizarre sort of limbo world that existed outside the realm of his actual reality.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that, just watching and wondering, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Joanna, asking if he was okay. He sent a quick text back to say yes, he was okay, he’d tell her the details later. Just how much of the details, he wasn’t sure yet.

When he looked at Matt again—unmoving, not even an eyelid flutter but a steady heartbeat—his eyes fell upon the hospital gown they’d put on him. And Foggy wondered... Yes, he’d have to ask about this.

He got up from the chair, lingered awkwardly by the bed again, and muttered, “I’ll be back, Murdock. Don’t you dare die, I have questions.”

He turned and left the room, seeing how he wouldn’t be getting any answers today. At the nurses’ station, he asked if they knew what Matt had been wearing when he was brought in. The young woman told him to wait and came back a few minutes later with a blue plastic bag.

Foggy peered inside. Civilian clothing, by the looks of it. He caught himself being surprised that it wasn’t the Daredevil suit and cowl inside. Then again, there’d be heavy police involvement if that had been the case, and that would add the kind of complications to his life that he thought he had long left behind.

He thanked the nurse, but before he could go, she stopped him. “Mr. Nelson? There’s one last thing. Do you know if Mr. Murdock has a do-not-resuscitate order?”

Foggy swallowed. “I, uh... he...,” he stammered, but then caught himself and said, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

That was actually a half-lie. They had discussed it when Matt made Foggy his medical proxy, and Matt had said that he didn’t want unnecessary life-prolonging measures. But Foggy truly didn’t know if he had actually ever completed a DNR form.

He left the hospital, plastic bag in hand, with a sense of confusion and dread in his stomach. What the hell was he supposed to do now—with this? This information, this situation, this bomb dropped right in front of him with no SWAT team to defuse it.

+-+-+-+-+

Back at home, with Joanna and the kids still at the zoo, he went into the living room and emptied the contents of the plastic bag onto the dining table. A pair of dark blue jeans, a shirt that was cut into two pieces along the front, covered in copious blood stains. A pair of casual sneakers, a well-worn wallet, a phone, and a set of keys.

He hesitated a moment, then opened the wallet. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing personal, either—no pictures, no mementos. More testament to the fact that Matt had nobody.

He sighed and folded the clothes up as best as he could, wondering if he should throw away the ruined shirt or not. Maybe that was for Matt to decide. He put all the items back in the plastic bag so he could give it back to its rightful owner later.

He texted Joanna to say he was back home and if he should still join them at the zoo. She sent him an audio message back a few minutes later that they were on their way home as Mia had fallen and scraped her knee, which was apparently taking the fun out of ogling exotic animals.

Foggy was left standing in their living room, rubbing one eyebrow. He couldn’t get the image of Matt in that hospital bed out of his head. What would he tell his wife when she came home and would undoubtedly have questions?

Surely nothing about Daredevil, that was clear. The rest, he could probably keep pretty much to the truth, except maybe the true reason why he and Matt had dissolved both their firm and their friendship all those years ago. He’d have to fumble his way around that.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, something else came to his mind. Would Karen want to know that Matt had been hospitalized? Ever since the kids, Foggy’s life has just been a little too busy to keep up a regular rapport. They sent each other birthday and Christmas greetings, but not much more than that.

And what would Karen do with the news? It wasn’t like she would come visit all the way over from the west coast. Or maybe she would—if she knew just how badly injured Matt was...? It was complicated, and Foggy had never truly asked her just on how friendly terms she and Matt had parted. He knew that she also knew about Daredevil, that he had finally told her in a moment of truth. He wasn’t sure if that made it any better.

Foggy decided to wait until the next day, until he could hopefully actually speak to Matt not half a minute before he heard their front door open and a spill of noise filling their home.

Mia came running right up to him, pointing at the large Band-Aid that was adorning her right knee. “It really hurts, Daddy.”

“Oh boy,” Foggy commented. “I’m sorry, Snowflake.”

“Don’t call me that,” she shot back.

He lifted his arms in defense. “Okay. What would you like me to call you, then?”

“Mia,” she said with a pout. “That’s my name.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So it is. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Punish my stupid sister. She pushed me.”

Foggy turned to Ellie. “Is that true?”

“It’s not my fault she can’t see where she’s going,” Ellie countered. To Mia, she said, “You’ve got eyes, don’t you?”

Mia raised her voice. “You always wanna see everything first. I hate you!”

“Girls,” Foggy interjected. “No fighting, okay? Surely, we can sort this out.”

“No,” Mia said and stomped away to her room without another word.

“She’s such a sissy,” Ellie muttered.

Foggy chastised her right away, “That’s not how we do things in this family, and you know it, Little Missus. Did you push her?”

She put on her best pouty face, and Foggy knew he was on the right track. He asked again. “Did you?”

The pout changed to stoicism. “Yes, but—”

“No buts. You will go and apologize to your sister.”

“But I don’t want to. She called me names.”

He sighed. Clearly, he didn’t have the full picture, so he decided to let it go for now. “Be that as it may, but you still shouldn’t push your sister to the ground.”

“It’s not my fault she’s a klutz!” Ellie defended herself.

“We will talk about this later.”

The pout came back, and then Ellie was gone, too. Foggy looked at his wife, who had just finished putting away the shoes and clothes that had been carelessly discarded by the coatrack. “Little sisterly dispute, huh? I hope that didn’t escalate too badly.”

She gave him a weary smile. “Why did we decide to have twins, again?”

“Yeah, let’s cancel that contract. Need me to sort this out?”

She waved it off. “Nah. Let’s not make a big deal of it, they already got an earful at the zoo. They’ll be best friends again before you know it.”

Foggy plopped down on the sofa. Joanna sat down next to him, putting a supportive hand on his knee. “How did your hospital visit go?”

“It was... weird. I don’t know.”

“No offense, but I think you owe me some back story on this.”

Foggy sighed. “I’m sorry, I do. It’s just… I didn’t think I’d be dealing with this again.”

“Wanna maybe just give the basics?”

And that’s how Joanna learned all the pertinent details about Foggy’s past as one half of Nelson & Murdock.

+-+-+-+-+

The next day, Foggy tried his best to distract himself with work—which was successful to a certain degree. By four pm, his mind kept wandering more and more often to one Matthew Murdock, so he called it a day earlier than usual and made his way back to Mount Sinai.

The hospital hadn’t called, which he took as a good sign that at least Matt’s condition hadn’t significantly worsened. When he got to the ICU that time, he was intercepted at the nurses’ station.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nelson, but you will have to put on protective gear.”

Foggy frowned. “What for?”

“Mr. Murdock has contracted an infection, and we would like to err on the side of caution.”

“An infection? What does that mean?”

“He may have contracted it at the time he was shot. He developed a fever overnight, and the surgical site is showing signs of infection. He is receiving antibiotics and we’re doing everything to counteract it. We may have caught it early enough.”

“Okay,” Foggy responded, clearly thinking that it wasn’t. Why hadn’t they called him if Matt’s condition had worsened? Had he come across so flaky that the hospital staff didn’t consider him a reliable contact or worth an update? Should he have called the hospital himself?

He felt a surge of annoyance at himself. At one time he’d told himself he was over and done with Matthew Murdock. And now he was back here, worrying against his better judgment.

“Follow me, please,” the nurse told him and guided him to a small changing room, showing him where the disposable gowns, gloves, surgical masks and scrub caps were. By the time Foggy was fully outfitted, he was sweating and sure that he looked completely ludicrous. It may have been the only time, he thought, that it was a blessing Matt didn’t have eyesight.

From outside the glass cubicle, Matt didn’t look any different than the day before. But when Foggy slid open the door, Matt’s eyelids fluttered and he turned his head in Foggy’s direction.

Foggy’s mouth immediately went dry. He hadn’t really expected for them to hold any conversations. He wasn’t ready for this. He panicked, on the verge of turning back, when Matt’s raspy but achingly familiar voice croaked, “Who’s there?”

Foggy wanted to say his name, but nothing came out. He drew in a shaky breath and tried again. “It’s Foggy.”

“Foggy?” There was clear confusion all over Matt’s face. Foggy wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did Matt not remember him?

“You remember me, right?”

“Of course.”

Foggy smiled embarrassedly. Everything between them was laden with awkwardness. He couldn’t think of a single appropriate thing to say, because clearly, ‘How are you?’ very much wasn’t.

Matt came to the rescue when he asked, “Why are you here?”

“I, uh... The hospital called me when you were admitted. Guess you should have taken me off that emergency contact list.”

“I’m sorry,” Matt rasped, the exhaustion evident in every one of his features.

“No,” Foggy took a step closer to the end of the bed, “It’s fine. Although I couldn’t really tell them everything they wanted to know. I hope you were able to fill in some of the blanks in the meantime.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good.”

Silence settled, and the awkwardness grew heavier. Foggy harrumphed. “So, uh... Do I wanna how this happened—you getting shot?”

“Probably not.”

“They gave me a bag with your stuff, so I know you weren’t out in your suit, but I have a sneaky suspicion that it’s somehow connected to whatever it is you’re doing at night. You’re still doing that, right?”

Matt’s mouth twitched, and by not saying anything, Foggy knew what the answer was.

“And by the way, your things are at our house, if you want them back.”

“Our?” Matt asked.

“Yeah. I, uh... I live with my wife and our two children. Out in Queens.”

A small smile formed on Matt’s lips, and it instantly made him appear softer, younger, more innocent. “Congratulations.”

“Her name is Joanna. We have twins—both girls. Not identical. Now you.”

Matt’s eyes rolled up slightly. A gesture that was a sudden and sharp memory in Foggy’s mind. “Not much to tell. No wife, no kids.”

“No job?”

“I have a job.”

“Other than the Double-D thing?”

“Yes.”

“As a lawyer?”

“A small office in Hell’s Kitchen. How about you?”

Foggy shrugged. “Sue me, but I went fully corporate. Made partner within three years. Pays the bills. Working hours are a little more decent, too.”

Matt smiled another smile, but Foggy could tell it was forced. “That’s nice.”

“It is. So, uhm, yeah.”

“You sound different,” Matt remarked.

Foggy could feel a droplet of sweat running down his spine. God, it was hot in here. “Yeah, it’s the surgical mask. They made me wear all this gear. You know, ICU and all.”

The conversation stalled again, and they were back to square one. Foggy suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Matt.

“You don’t have to stay, Foggy.”

“I know. But, uh... I don’t know, Matt. I don’t wanna...”

“What? Leave me here?”

What the hell, he might as well be frank. “Yeah. I mean, do you have anyone? Friends? Someone who can take care of you?”

Matt lowered his head, and that was Foggy’s answer right there. Foggy prodded on, “I’m guessing no, because otherwise the hospital wouldn’t have called your former friend whom you haven’t spoken to in ten years. I mean, I know that Karen is in California. Claire is no longer in the picture either, I’m guessing. And knowing your track record at getting attached to people, I can only hazard an educated guess. Tell me I’m wrong.”

His voice was small. “You’re not wrong.”

“Yeah. So if I left, that would be kind of a dick move to make now, wouldn’t it?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, I don’t, but that’s not how it works, Murdock. God,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “I can’t believe you still have all that self-sacrificing bullshit drilled into you. People don’t have to owe you anything to be nice to you. Not if they’re decent human beings.”

“I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Save it.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

Okay, that was a harsh thing to say, and Foggy was about to deny it, but was it not exactly that? Maybe they both needed the honesty between them.

“Yeah, well, you’ve still got it all the same because maybe I can’t help it.”

Matt stayed silent after that, and Foggy couldn’t help but watch his face very closely. There was exhaustion in the now more prominent lines on his face, more wrinkles around his eyes, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

He remembered the nurse had said he was running a fever. Maybe they should be reserving the deep discussions about their issues until after Matt was feeling more like himself. Because, really, Matt was at a disadvantage in every way.

Foggy softened his voice when he asked, “They said you’ve got an infection. How bad do you feel?”

Matt blinked twice. Slowly, as if he was trying to process that Foggy wasn’t hitting him with more accusations. “I’m okay,” finally said.

Foggy slowly shook his head. This again. But what had he expected, really? Matt might have given a different answer if they were still friends. He was getting the polite responses Matt reserved for strangers, for people he was keeping at arm’s length. Something he was more masterful at than anyone Foggy knew.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I should get you? Do you still live in 6A?”

Matt shook his head ever so slightly. “No, I moved to a smaller place a few years back. West 48th Street.”

Foggy knew the area. “Right in the middle of the Kitchen.”

“Yeah.”

“Near the community garden?”

“Right across from it.”

“Sweet. You haven’t answered my question, though.”

“I’m fine, Foggy. You don’t need to get me anything.”

“Yeah, bullshit. You’re lying here all day with zero visitors. Well, except the nurses, and they don’t count. Obviously, magazines don’t work for you, and I doubt they have any Braille material here. You must be bored out of your effing mind.”

Matt’s mouth formed into a small grin, which Foggy was happy to see return. “You still know how to make a blind man happy.”

“Well, I know how to make _you_ happy. Or at least I used to. How do you listen to your audio books and movies these days?”

“My phone.”

“Oh, uh… I actually have your phone, it was with your stuff. I should have brought it. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’ll make sure to get it to you. Is there anything else I can get you? Anything to read? Do you still have that Braille display?”

“I, uh... I have a tactile tablet. It’s somewhere at home. It’s... I don’t remember where I left it.”

“Okay. I’ll get it for you. I can swing by there tomorrow before work.”

“You don’t have to, Foggy.”

“It’s fine. I can totally do it. What else are you missing? Charging cables?”

“They’re in the bottom drawer of the cabinet by the living room window.”

“Noted. I, uh… I was wondering if I should call Karen…?”

“Please don’t.”

“Mm. Okay. Should I ask why?”

“We’re not close anymore.”

That figured. He shifted on his feet. “Okay. Then I guess I better go.”

“Thanks, Foggy.” He sounded embarrassed.

“Don’t mention it. Least I can do. I’ll try to drop it off in the morning, okay? In the meantime, feel better.”

“Thank you.”

They said quick goodbyes, and Foggy left. Boy, was he glad to get out of the protective clothing!

+-+-+-+-+

Back home, his wife welcomed him with a smile and the prospect of Thai take-out. With both of them having jobs, there wasn’t always time to cook.

The twins were in one of their rooms; he could hear their chatter. He turned to Joanna. “Best friends again, huh?”

“See, told you.”

He shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened the top button. The tie had already found its way into his jacket pocket before he visited Matt at the hospital. One hand raked through his hair—shorter than he used to wear it, as he said to Joanna, “I’m sorry to do this, but can you take the kids to school tomorrow? I promised Matt I’d get a few of his things to him before work.”

“How is he?”

Foggy shrugged. “I don’t know. He was awake, so we talked a little. It was...” he blew air out through pursed lips, “kinda awkward. What do you tell someone you haven’t seen in ten years?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I wish I could give you some advice, but I don’t know Matt at all.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe it’s time you met him.”

She looked slightly taken aback. “Why?”

Foggy shrugged. “I don’t know. God, this is all so messy.”

“Honey, what’s going on here? Didn’t you say that he’s not your friend anymore? Why the change of heart all of a sudden?”

Yeah, why was that? He didn’t really have a good answer. “I know it’s kinda hard to understand. Matt, he— He makes bad choices sometimes. I guess that’s ultimately why we went separate ways. But he’s also… It’s not all bad, you know?

“We were best friends for over ten years. Maybe that’s something you don’t erase so easily.”

Joanna’s face was inscrutable. “You weren’t— You and him, were you… a thing?”

Foggy was actually shocked. “What? No.” He couldn’t suppress a laugh. “No, Matt doesn’t swing that way. That was never even in question.”

Joanna raised her eyebrows but stayed quiet.

“No, seriously, Matt is the poster boy for heterosexuality. Used to have a really scary radar for picking out the hottest women in the room and cozying up to them in the blink of an eye. It was almost like his superpower. So if anyone had to be potentially jealous, I’d be me, cause how could he resist you if he met you?”

It made his wife break into a grin. “You old charmer. I may have been hot ten years ago.”

He looked her in the eyes. “You’re as hot as the first day I met you. Or, wait, you may be even hotter now.”

“You _have_ taken notice of my stretch marks and cellulite, right?”

“Pfft. Signs of aging. Not a sign of reduced hotness.”

“Stop. You’re becoming a cliché.”

Foggy got up from his seat. “Only telling the truth. Let me go say hello to the girls.”

He knocked and peeked his head into Ellie’s room. “Anybody home?”

“Ugh,” Ellie said, “Go away.”

“Is that the way to greet your daddy?”

“We’re busy,” she explained.

Foggy tried to gauge what the girls were doing, but couldn’t quite make heads or tails of whatever they were working on. Something at their desk. It didn’t look particularly malicious, so he was ready to let it go.

Mia then poked her sister in the side with her elbow. “Ask him.”

“Why me?” she whispered back.

“It was your idea.”

Foggy said, “Ask me what?”

Ellie turned around and faced him. “Can we go to Charlie’s place before school tomorrow morning?”

“Who’s Charlie?”

Her voice took on a definite ‘duh’ tone. “He’s in our class.”

“Oh. And why would I want to go there before school tomorrow morning?”

Both Ellie and Mia looked nonplussed. “We... can’t tell you.”

“Well then. That creates a little bit of a problem.”

“Why?” Mia whined.

“Because a) I won’t go there if you don’t tell me why, and b) because your mom is taking you to school tomorrow.”

Mia let out a clearly not very impressed sound. “It’s less fun when Mom takes us to school. Why can’t _you_ take us?”

“Because I need to visit a friend who’s in the hospital.”

“Why?” Ellie asked.

“Because he’s alone and I promised to go see him.”

“No, why is he in the hospital?”

“He got shot.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “By a bullet?”

“Technically, by a gun. But, yes, with a bullet. They had to take it out of his belly.”

“Is he a criminal?” she continued her line of questioning.

Foggy had to chuckle. “No, he’s not a criminal. He’s a lawyer, like me.”

“Does he work with you?”

“No, not anymore.”

Ellie interjected, “What’s his name?”

“Matt.”

“Tell him...” Ellie started, “Tell him to get well soon.”

Foggy smiled. “I will do that. Do you want me to ask your mom if she can take you to Charlie’s place tomorrow?”

Mia and Ellie whispered something to each other, then Ellie said, “No.”

“Okay,” Foggy told them. “Glad that’s settled. Homework all done?”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad. Ages ago.”

“All right. I’ll leave you to it, then.”

There were no protests, so Foggy retreated. Those girls, they surely were something. He’d never been this proud of anything he’d accomplished in his life.

+-+-+-+-+

To find parking in Hell’s Kitchen the next morning was no small feat. They’d bought a car when they moved out to Queens, and upgraded it to an SUV when the twins were on their way. Foggy hated driving in Manhattan.

He had to walk several blocks to Matt’s new apartment. A non-descript five story red-bricked building, wedged in between others of a similar kind. Metal fire escapes zig-zagging their way up explained the roof access.

Foggy opened the entrance door and was greeted by the typical Hell’s Kitchen apartment building with its cheerless and somewhat claustrophobic tiled staircase and wood railings. It felt weird to be back here after living out in Queens for so long.

Up on the third story, he found Matt’s apartment and unlocked the door. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he entered. The corridor was narrow, leading off into three other rooms.

The first one was the bedroom. It was tiny, Matt’s king size bed dominated the small space, with the wardrobe and the dresser pushed into the corners.

He briefly inspected the bathroom, then went into the living room with the small kitchen attached. He recognized almost all the furniture from Matt’s old place, although it wasn’t nearly as spacious. Everything looked tidy—just the way Matt liked it. That was something Foggy—the messier of the two—had learned very quickly when they’d shared a room during their time at Columbia.

All those old memories involuntarily surfaced—of a younger and more naïve Matthew Murdock, intent on graduating with the best marks possible. Foggy wondered when exactly he’d started going after criminals. Had there ever been times where Matt had snuck out at night without Foggy noticing?

He pushed the thought down. It was such a long time ago, and the persons they both were had considerably changed in the meantime. Also, there were more immediate issues at hand.

It didn’t take Foggy long to find Matt’s phone and the tablet. He looked around if there was anything else he could bring. Toiletries, maybe. He started packing a few items into a duffel bag he found in the storage cabinet at the end of the corridor, adding pajamas, sweat pants, t-shirts and hoodies.

A brief check of Matt’s fridge revealed, among other things, a few slices of cheese that already had green, fuzzy dots on them. He found a trash bag and threw everything in it that wouldn’t survive for at least another four weeks.

He inspected all the rooms one last time to make sure the apartment could be left alone for a while. It felt odd to think of this as Matt’s home, without Matt here to introduce him to the new surroundings.

In the end, he pulled the door closed behind him, locked up and made his way back to the car.

+-+-+-+-+

His visit to see Matt that day was brief, and he already had a hate/hate relationship with all the protective gear that he had to don again.

In his room, he showed Matt the duffel bag and explained what was in it. Matt wasn’t really with it. Foggy figured maybe they had increased his painkillers or given him sedatives again.

At the nurses’ station he asked about it, and the nurse there told him to wait a few moments. She came back five minutes later with a young doctor in tow.

“Mr. Nelson?” she asked, guiding him over to the otherwise empty row of waiting area chairs.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Dr. Abrams. I understand you’re Mr. Murdock’s medical proxy.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I would like to talk to you about his condition. His infection is getting worse, and it looks like it might be a multi-resistant strain. We’re hitting it with everything we have, but there are early indicators of organ involvement, which is usually not a good sign.”

“Organ involvement?” Foggy asked, his throat dry.

“His kidney output is deteriorating, and we’re also seeing the first signs of fluid build-up in his lungs.”

“That’s... that sounds bad.”

“I know this is a lot to take in, but I wanted to make you aware of the gravity of the situation. Does he have any family we can get in touch with?”

“No. His, uh, his parents are both dead. He doesn’t have any siblings.”

The doctor gave him what was probably meant to be an encouraging smile. “I understand. Are there any questions you have that I can answer?”

Foggy tried to process all the information, but it wouldn’t quite compute. “If he— If this gets worse, how long does he have?”

“I wouldn’t want to make—”

“How long?” Foggy pressed on.

“It’s hard to say, every case is different. It could be anything from a day or two to two weeks.”

Shit. No. That couldn’t be real. “A day?” he repeated incredulously.

“That’s the absolute worst case scenario, and I think we can be a little more optimistic in this case. From what I’ve seen, Mr. Murdock seems to be a fighter.”

_‘You have no idea,’_ Foggy wanted to tell her. He bit his tongue. “I, uh... is there anything I can do?”

“Other than be there for him, I’m afraid not.”

“Thank you,” he told her, and she got up from her seat.

“We have your contact details, we will call you if needed. Come find me or someone from our team if you need anything.”

Foggy nodded numbly and watched her leave. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the screen. It was a reminder from work about the deposition that morning that he could still make if he left right away. He’d taken the lead on this case, he’d have to be there. Shit. He quickly texted his assistant that he’d be late but to please stall and wait for him.

He quickly went back to Matt’s room, but since he’d already taken off all the protective clothing, he stood and looked at him through the glass door. Matt wasn’t moving, his eyelids closed. He looked as if he was asleep.

In a low voice, Foggy murmured, “Hang in there, Matt. There are so many things I’d still like to talk to you about. I’ll be back, though. I promise.”

+-+-+-+-+

He kept his promise. After the deposition (too long, too tedious), he wrapped up what he needed to wrap up for the day, handed a few things off to his assistant, his paralegal and his associate, and told his managing partner that he was taking the rest of the day, potentially the next one or two as well.

She wasn’t all too happy about it, but ultimately understood the gravity of the situation when Foggy explained a good friend was on the verge of dying. He may have made it sound more dramatic than it was—or... maybe not. Who knew?

He was back in the hospital just after lunchtime. The protective gear was still a nuisance, but at least now he had a handle on how to be efficient about changing into it.

Matt didn’t look much different when he went into his ICU room. That was a good sign, Foggy hoped. He was even greeted with a small smile, and a, “Foggy.”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“That can wait.”

Matt frowned. “It’s... barely afternoon. What— Is something wrong?”

Foggy noticed he sounded tired. “Well, uh... I don’t know how much they’ve told you.”

Matt closed his eyes. “Enough.”

“Yeah, it’s— Fuck, I don’t know how to say this, but it really didn’t sound too great.”

There was a weak chuckle from Matt. “So you figure I’m on my deathbed, and you had to come rushing in. Gee, I’m flattered.”

Foggy wanted to laugh, but there was something in his throat that constricted and stifled any appropriate response. He found the chair and dragged it a little closer to the bed so that he had Matt within his line of sight.

In a small voice, Foggy said, “This really isn’t funny, you know.”

“Yeah, except I get to say it because I’m the one who’s dying.”

Silence ensued, until Matt added weakly, “Maybe it’s just as well. Maybe this is exactly the right time to end all this.”

Foggy’s breath suddenly shuddered. A blind rage bubbled up inside him that was fiercer than he’d ever expected. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare _say_ that!”

“Why? It’s not like I have much left to live for.”

And just like that, like a switch was being flicked, tears welled up in Foggy’s eyes. He swallowed, but he couldn’t keep the shakiness from his voice. “What the hell happened, Matt? How did we get here?”

“You know how,” Matt told him bluntly.

“Couldn’t we... couldn’t we have made more of an effort? Couldn’t we have fixed this?”

“I think you know the answer to that. You know I wasn’t gonna stop doing... what I was doing. That I wasn’t gonna change who I am.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t there have been a way? To be okay with it? I don’t know. It just seems like such a waste. All these years. I wish... I wish we could have stayed in touch, I wish you could meet my little girls.”

“Why don’t you tell me about them?”

So Foggy did. He told him how he’d met Joanna—at a colleague’s wedding. Told him about how much of a kick-ass graphic designer she was, how their house was filled with her portrait photography, told him when they found out they were pregnant with twins, the drama of their premature births, and the tough months that followed. He told him about finding a nanny, kindergarten, school, how bright his angels were, how annoying they could be.

Matt smiled and laughed in all the right places, and Foggy... Foggy just wanted to cry at the injustice of it all. Wanted to punch something and scream at the universe how much he needed Matt to beat this and get better and teach his girls how to exceed everyone’s expectations and defy peoples' prejudices, how to throw spin-kick punches and how much of a goofball Matt could be.

After an hour, Matt’s energy was faltering, so Foggy excused himself.

The whole ride back home, he couldn’t help but turn the events over in his head. Matt had to come back from this. He had to. Hell, he’d survived being almost gutted with a ninja grappling hook. It seemed ridiculous that he’d die from a bacterial infection.

The thought that also formed and then solidified was how much he actually wanted Matt to meet his family. He wasn’t sure how Joanna would feel about that. Not to mention that an ICU was one of the most awkward locations he could imagine for a first meeting. He’d have to pitch the idea to his wife, see what she would say.

He stumbled more than he walked along his driveway, letting the door listlessly fall into its lock behind him. He toed off his shoes and hung the jacket on the coatrack, sinking down into one of the kitchen chairs.

He should probably be giving Karen a call. She deserved to know. Then again, Matt had said no. Wouldn’t he be a total ass if he called her against his will? He decided to table the decision for now.

Joanna found him in the same spot half an hour later, with a barely touched cup of tea long gone cold in front of him. The kids spilled into the house after her. There was too much joy and racket for such a miserable afternoon.

“Franklin?” Joanna addressed him. “Is everything all right?”

“No,” he simply replied.

Joanna put her handbag on the kitchen counter, walking over to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Matt’s dying.”

Her face fell. “What? What happened?”

“He’s got an infection. Some multi-resistant something. It’s already started to attack his organs. They don’t know if he’s gonna make it.”

“Oh Honey, that’s terrible.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Damn tragedy. God, this just sucks so much.”

Just then, Mia came into the kitchen, followed by Ellie. “I’m hungry,” Ellie proclaimed.

It was Mia, the more emotionally attuned of the twins, who noticed something wasn’t quite right. “Daddy, are you sad?”

He didn’t feel like mustering the energy to put on a brave face. “Yeah.”

“Why? Did someone die?”

He smiled bitterly. _Not yet,_ he thought, but it was ironic how blunt children could be. “No, no one died, but my friend in the hospital isn’t doing so great.”

“Matt?” Ellie asked. Of course they’d remember.

“Yes, that’s his name.”

“Can’t they make him better?”

“They’re trying, but he’s got a serious infection, and the medicines they’re giving him aren’t working very well.”

“Is he nice?” Mia asked.

Foggy had to chuckle despite himself. “Yes, he’s very nice. Did I tell you he’s blind?”

“Real blind?”

“Yes, real blind. Why, is there any other kind?”

She came over to Foggy and squeezed against his knees, half sitting on them. “Our teacher Mrs. Quail, her husband is a little blind, but not real blind.”

Ellie added, “Can’t they fix his eyes?”

“No, Matt’s optic nerves got damaged. It’s permanent, they can’t be healed. He’s been blind for over thirty years.”

Ellie looked at Foggy quizzically. “If he can’t see, how does he know what color his clothes are?”

Foggy was amazed once again by how children saw the world. “He has little tags on them that tell him the color. There’s special letters for blind people that they can feel. It’s called—”

“Braille,” Ellie interrupted him.

“There you go,” Foggy said to her.

“But if he can’t see the color, how does he put tags on them?”

“I think he has people with eyesight helping him with that. His phone camera can also detect colors and then reads out to him what color it is.”

“And how does he know what colors look like?”

“He wasn’t always blind. He had an accident when he was ten. I think he remembers what colors look like.”

Mia snuggled a little closer. “Can I meet him?”

The question surprised Foggy. He met Joanna’s gaze, whose expression he couldn’t really interpret. He turned his attention back to Mia.

“I don’t know, Snowflake. Maybe when he’s feeling a little better, okay?”

“Okay,” she easily agreed.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Ellie reminded them again.

Joanna sighed. “I’m gonna make sandwiches. Who wants any?”

“Me!” Ellie immediately called out

“Can I have turkey?” Mia joined.

“I want PBJ,” Ellie countered.

“You can have turkey and PBJ. But only one, so that you aren’t still full when dinner rolls around.”

“Yay!” the twins cheered in unison. Foggy could only muster a weak smile. This whole thing still sucked big time.

+-+-+-+-+

The next morning, Foggy called work to say he wouldn’t be coming in. He kissed Joanna and the kids goodbye and made his way back to Mount Sinai, praying that Matt’s condition hadn’t deteriorated overnight.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it when he walked into Matt’s room. He was awake, but there were a few additions to the medical equipment. More IV bags, a new machine next to his bed. Something was spinning inside of it. Foggy noticed two new tubes filled with blood going into Matt’s arm.

“Hey,” he cautiously greeted Matt.

“Hey,” Matt answered, and it already sounded tired.

Foggy pointed at the new machine. “That’s new. What is it?”

“They put me on dialysis.”

Foggy made an _ugh_ sound that wouldn’t be difficult to interpret for Matt. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great.”

Foggy wasn’t sure what to respond to that, so he made a show of dragging the chair closer to Matt’s bedside. It was the closest he’d been to the man since they got reacquainted. Now that he sat there, he could also see that Matt’s breathing seemed to be a bit more labored.

“You in any pain?” was all he could think of.

“Only if I move.”

“Okay. That’s... I, uh... Do you want to talk at all? I mean, if you feel shitty, I could just sit here if you want. Or go. If you prefer.”

“Please stay.” It sounded almost desperate.

“Okay, sure.”

Matt briefly smiled, but it gave way to a more strained expression within a second or two.

Foggy fumbled for something to say. “Did you find everything I brought for you yesterday? Your phone and your tablet thingy?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem, glad I could help.”

Silence fell again, which Foggy broke once more. “You said you didn’t want me to call anyone. Is that still the case?”

Matt nodded weakly. “Yes.”

“What about the hospital chaplain?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Matt drew a face. “I don’t know. I… I’m not comfortable talking to a stranger.”

Okay, that made a certain kind of sense. Matt wasn’t great at sharing personal things about himself, even with people that were close to him. Then again, what exactly was Foggy now? Hadn’t he become a stranger himself?

Matt’s eyelids fluttered slightly, as if he’d just come to a realization. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Like, 9:30, maybe?” He checked his watch. “9:42, actually.”

“Why are you not at work?”

“Why do you think?”

“No, Foggy, I don’t want that. I don’t want you to miss work because of me.”

“Tough luck, because _I_ do. I wanna know what’s going on with you.”

“Because we might not have a lot of time left?” Matt interjected.

Foggy blew out a breath. “I don’t like to think that way, but, yeah, maybe because we might not have a lot of time left.”

Matt turned his head away, and Foggy could clearly see the emotion there. It may have been the first sign that Matt was actually still capable of human connection. Foggy figured it must have been quite a while since he’d had let anyone get halfway close. “Look, let’s cut the gloom and doom bullshit, cause that’s not gonna help any of us. I need you to fight this, okay?”

Matt’s brow furrowed, and Foggy wasn’t even sure where that had come from. “I’m trying,” Matt offered.

“Try harder. If anyone knows how to fight, it’s you.”

“This one may be above my weight class.”

“Yeah, fuck that. In the meantime, can you help me fill some of the gaps? What have you been up to in the last ten years?”

Matt shrugged carefully with one shoulder. “Not much to tell. You know I’m still going out in the mask.”

“Has anything changed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like... the city? The thugs? Who are you actually hunting down these days?”

“Crime in general. Injustice.”

“No large scale drug smugglers or human trafficking rings?”

“Sometimes.”

“Any more Wilson Fisks out there?”

“Too many. I’ve brought down one or two.”

“In the mask...?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Not solely, no. I still have a small office.”

“Yeah, you said that. What is it that you do there? Defense cases, like we used to?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

“So it’s just you?”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “I had an assistant for a few years. Not for a while, though. The economy hasn’t been helping.”

“She not around anymore?”

“I think she moved upstate. We weren’t all that close.”

Yeah, no surprise there. Matt had been burned when he let Karen in. He’d probably told himself we wasn’t gonna make that mistake twice. “When did you move?”

“Three years ago. Right around the time I had to let Sandra go.”

“Not voluntarily, I’m guessing?”

“What, the move? Not entirely, no.”

Foggy looked at Matt—really looked at him, tried to see beyond the exhaustion and the symptoms of the infection taking hold. He noticed the grey in his stubble again, the lines on his forehead and around his eyes, the years of resolve and guilt and determination etched into them. The question that formed wasn’t entirely deliberate, but it was there all the same. “Are you happy?”

It sent Matt’s forehead into a frown. “Happy?”

Foggy waved one hand. “Yeah, with what you’re doing. You know, the whole balancing the lawyering by day with your vigilantying by night. Does that make you happy?”

He was sure he already knew the answer to that, but he nevertheless wanted to hear it from Matt himself. All he got was a noncommittal, “I’m happy enough.”

“No. I mean, truly happy. To smile, to laugh, to do something that fills you with pure joy,. something you’re so proud of you could burst with it.”

Predictably, Matt stayed silent, save for the slight rattle of his faster than normal breath, so Foggy added, “You haven’t had any of those things in a long time, have you?”

Matt shook his head almost imperceptibly. Foggy prodded on. “Depressive episodes?”

“Some,” he said in a small voice.

“Oh, Matt.” It came out as a sigh. “I should have known. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. For not making an effort?”

“How could you, Foggy? I made it very clear that I didn’t want you to.”

Foggy let out a short chuckle. “Since when has that ever stopped me?”

That made Matt smile. “Yeah, you always _were_ an obnoxious little shit that way.”

“What else should I know about?”

“I think that’s pretty much it.”

“That’s your last ten years—lawyering and vigilantying? No high points?”

“Well, there _was_ that time I saved a drag queen from what sounded like mortal danger but turned out to be a hissing cat. It followed me home.”

“Did you keep it?”

“It was gone the next day.”

“Shame. I can picture you rooming with a kitten. Did I mention we have a cat?”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, to be fair, he’s Jo’s. He’s cute, though. Norwegian Forest Cat, white with dark grey patches. Gale. That’s his name.”

“As in storm?”

“As in Gale Hawthorne, the character from _The Hunger Games_.”

“I’ve never read it.”

“Didn’t we watch the movies together?”

“Maybe. It’s been a while.”

“I think they even had audio description.”

“Were those the ones with the factions in Chicago?”

“Hm. No, I don’t think so. _Hunger Games_ is where they have different districts and every year they hold a tournament where teenagers from those districts have to fight to the death.”

Matt tried to straighten his back, wincing as he did so. His breathing increased in intensity. Foggy thought he could hear a slight rattle before Matt said, “Oh yeah. I think I vaguely remember that.”

“You didn’t like them, huh?”

“I don’t know. They may not have been very evocative without the visual cues.”

“I should get you the audio books. I’m sure they exist.”

“They probably do,” Matt rasped.

A machine next to Matt’s bed started beeping, and he shifted in his bed, tried to sit up a little straighter. His breath caught in his throat, and he spat out a sudden cough that got more intense. His face was scrunched up in pain, and it sent Foggy flying out of his seat.

He hovered helplessly by Matt’s side, unsure what to do with all the medical equipment attached to him. Foggy turned and hurried out of the room to find someone who could help.

A nurse was already on the way, and Foggy intercepted her. “He started coughing, I think he’s having trouble breathing.”

He followed the woman to Matt’s room, hovering unsurely by the door. She was helping Matt sit up, fumbling with something next to his bed at the same time to produce an oxygen mask that she held over Matt’s mouth and nose and fastened the rubber strap behind his head.

“Try to take deep breaths,” she told Matt.

The coughing subsided only slowly until he sucked in ragged breaths in and out. The beeping of the machine next to the bed eventually stopped. The nurse elevated the head piece of Matt’s bed into a near vertical position, and he sank back against it, looking even more spent. His face clearly betrayed his discomfort despite the oxygen mask he was still wearing.

She adjusted the clip on Matt’s forefinger, then stood and watched the monitor for a few long seconds. One of the numbers on it slowly climbed and seemed to stop at 96.

“Okay,” she said, “Your oxygen saturation is a little low. I’d like to put you on the nasal cannula. It’ll help you breathe.”

Matt only nodded, and she did something near the bed Foggy couldn’t see, to bring up a clear plastic tube shortly thereafter that she put in Matt’s nose in lieu of the oxygen mask. She fastened the loops behind Matt’s ears, studying the monitor again for a long moment. The number now stayed at 93.

Apparently satisfied, she turned to leave. Foggy followed her outside. “Excuse me,” he addressed her. He’d not spoken to her before.

“Yes?” She seemed impatient.

“Can you explain to me what just happened?”

“Are you related to the patient?”

“No, but I’m his medical proxy. He doesn’t have any family. My name’s Franklin Nelson.”

That seemed to satisfy her. “There’s fluid starting to build up in his lungs. The oxygen cannula should help with his breathing.”

“That’s a bad sign, right? For the infection.”

She looked at him a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to let him down gently. “We don’t want to make any premature prognoses.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a good sign, is it?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “So what, uh… What happens next?”

“I wouldn’t want to speculate, Mr. Nel—”

“I understand,” Foggy interrupted. “But I need to know what the worst case scenario is here.”

The nurse hesitated, but then said, “We may have to intubate Mr. Murdock if his lung function continues to deteriorate.”

Foggy swallowed. “He will have to be intubated?”

“We wouldn’t do it unless absolutely necessary.”

Foggy’s heart sank. Matt would hate having a tube shoved down his throat. More than anyone. “Would he be sedated for that? Would he be conscious?”

“Yes, we would maintain the patient comfortably sedated to prevent arousability and ensure he’s not in any pain.”

Foggy swallowed. “I, uh… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hurried off, and Foggy was left standing in the hallway, with half a view of Matt’s hospital bed through the glass door. He hesitated before going in again. Damn. The reality of the situation was catching up with both of them faster than Foggy could keep up with.

“You all right?” he carefully asked.

Matt was even more short-winded now, his breathing definitely faster. It seemed like he was attempting a small smile, but failed halfway. “Looks like my—” he had to take a breath, “body doesn’t exactly want—” another breath, “to cooperate.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Why don’t I let you get some rest. Do you need anything? Can you get you anything?”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay. Do you have my phone number? You can call any time, okay?”

“Thanks,” Matt muttered more than said.

“Okay, cool. I’ll see you later, then.”

+-+-+-+-+

Foggy had a plan. Well, not much of a plan. But there was one thing he figured he could do for Matt—he _should_ do for Matt.

It had been so long, and it took him a while to remember, but eventually he came back with a name that Matt had mentioned back in the day. Father Lantom. That had been the name of his priest.

With that being the only information he had, unsure which parish he belonged to, Foggy started making phone calls to several dioceses, until he finally had the right one. He spoke to someone on the phone, inquired about Lantom. What he learned was unexpected.

Father Lantom had passed away from prostate cancer three years ago. Foggy asked who his successor was, and he was given a name and a church to inquire with. It was near Matt’s old neighborhood, and only just in his current one. Foggy made his way to the church in question.

Seeing the rather inconspicuous church building, he had a vague feeling of recollection. He thought maybe he’d been there once—back in the day when he attended a client’s funeral. He couldn’t remember Lantom’s face.

The inside of the church was empty, his steps reverberating through the high-ceilinged stone structures. He peeked his head into the vestry, even uttered a, _“Hello?”_ or two, but there was no response.

He went back outside and around the back, finding what he assumed was the parish hall. Soft sounds of a piano and a flute were being played inside, but the door was locked. He knocked a few times, calling out, until finally he was met by a man around Foggy’s own age.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I’m looking for Father Jacobi.”

“Oh. He’s not here on Wednesdays. I believe he’s at St. Christopher’s today.”

“And where is that?”

“About six blocks east of here. A red brick church. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” Foggy thanked the man and went in search of St. Christopher’s.

Fifteen minutes of brisk walking later, Foggy was panting for breath, but indeed had found the red brick building as described. There was no parish hall, but this time Foggy had more luck and found the priest in the church, setting up something near the altar. Foggy went up to him.

“Excuse me, are you Father Jacobi.”

The man, surprisingly young for a priest, straightened and greeted Foggy with a smile. “I am. How can I help you?”

Foggy cleared his throat. “This may seem like an odd question, but does the name Matthew Murdock tell you anything?”

Father Jacobi briefly frowned. “Can’t say that it does. Should it?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping it would. It’s…” He sighed. “It’s kind of a long story, I guess.”

Jacobi smiled apologetically. “Give me five more minutes, then I’ll be with you.”

Foggy hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into this with a total stranger, someone who probably couldn’t help him in the first place. But he had to start somewhere, didn’t he? “Okay,” he finally conceded.

They ended up sitting in the pews, Jacobi listening to what Foggy was telling him about his friend who had been close with Father Lantom. Foggy described Matt to Jacobi, but he still couldn’t say that he knew Matt.

So that meant even if Matt was still going to his old church, he wasn’t getting any support from its priest. Awesome. And, well... that figured. One more rung up the ladder of Matt’s isolation from the world. The one that usually led to self-destruction if he just climbed high enough.

“Would you like me to come and speak with your friend?” Jacobi asked when Foggy had told him Matt wasn’t doing so well.

“No,” he quickly said, “That’s very kind, but thank you. I don’t think he’d take it well.”

Jacobi just nodded. Foggy got up and extended a hand, which the priest shook.

“Please let me know if I can help in any way.”

“Will do. Thanks again.”

It was with an even heavier heart that Foggy exited the red-bricked building. What was he gonna do?

+-+-+-+-+

The topic of Matt came up again over a glass a red wine with his wife that same night, once the children were in bed. Foggy told Jo what had transpired earlier, and she listened, asked some questions. Foggy was glad he had someone he could share this with.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking… I kinda want Matt to meet you and the girls.”

He studied her closely, tried to gauge her reaction. Her face was inscrutable.

“You don’t like it,” he commented.

“No. I don’t know. It’s just… The whole thing is so strange.”

Foggy nodded. “I know.”

“I mean… Old friend suddenly reappears out of the blue, old friend is apparently on the brink of death, you want your whole family to meet old friend despite them never having heard about him…”

“Okay, when you put it like that, I do agree that it sounds odd.” He chuckled lightly. “And that’s just like Matt. He’s always had a knack for the complicated.” He hesitated a moment. “I just think it’d mean a lot if he got to know my family. For both of us.”

“And you’re sure you want him back in your life? Cause this is going to do that, invite him back in.”

Foggy didn’t even have to think about the answer. “Yeah. He needs all the help he can get. He’s a very complicated man, and he’s got a shit-ton of baggage. But he’s also charming as hell, and funny, and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.

“All those years, college, the law firm—we went through thick and thin. It’s been so long that I guess I’ve stopped missing him, but I… I think I still do. He’s like a brother to me.

“And I think he needs this, too. He’s never had a family. His mom left when he was a baby, his dad was murdered when he was nine. He grew up in an orphanage, and I think he’s not really had anyone since, you know?

“He’s always been kind of a drifter, fiercely independent to the point of isolating himself. And right now, I think he needs something to fight for rather than drifting away, completely unmoored from meaningful human connection. He’s really great with kids, too.” He paused, rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

Joanna was nodding. “Yeah. It does. A lot.”

“Jo, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“I know. But it’s important to you, so I’d be a total ass if I said no. Besides, it sounded like the twins were excited about meeting a,” she made air quotes, “ _real-blind_ person. And now I kinda want to get to know this guy, too.”

Foggy smiled. His wife was the best damn human on the planet. He put both their wine glasses on the table and pulled her in for a kiss. They made love that night to what Foggy hoped was Matt’s God smiling down on them.

+-+-+-+-+

They agreed that Matt would meet Joanna first, then decide whether they’d want to bring the girls in as well. When Foggy had presented the idea to Matt, he’d been skeptical at first, then quickly warmed to the idea.

Matt seemed to be in stable condition—still short-winded, still on the nasal oxygen cannula, still weak and pallid but putting up a stoic front. There hadn’t been any more mention of intubation, so Foggy was hopeful. They agreed on a visit during Joanna’s lunch break while the kids were still in school.

“You ready?” Foggy asked his wife as he helped her put on the protective gear that had become almost second nature to him by now.

“You make it sound like I’m about to embark on a huge challenge, or something.”

Foggy grinned at her. “Matt can be a challenge sometimes, I’ll give you that.”

“Uh oh. Should I reconsider?” she half-joked.

“Let’s go before you really change your mind.”

Foggy lightly rapped on the glass door with his fingernails before entering Matt’s room to indicate to him that they were there. He slid it open with the words, “Hey, buddy.”

“Foggy,” Matt greeted him, his voice alert but weak. Yet, even after all these years, it still sounded familiar.

“As indicated, I brought company. Meet Joanna, my wife.”

“Hi, Matthew. Nice to meet you,” she said in her usual, confident manner that Foggy always admired so much. There weren’t a great many things that could faze his wife.

“Oh, please call me Matt.”

“Matt it is.”

“Let’s sit,” Foggy told her, indicating the chair that was positioned next to Matt’s bed, carrying over the other that had been pushed to the wall.

A short silence ensued. Foggy couldn’t help but clear his throat. “Well, this is kinda awkward.”

“Says the person not confined to a hospital bed.”

“Okay, so maybe proper introductions are in order. You know, icebreaker and everything. We should play one of those silly face-to-face meeting games.”

Matt let out a weak chuckle. “Please spare me. Why don’t you let Joanna talk?”

She gave a little shrug, and Foggy was briefly debating whether to add commentary, which he never had time for when Joanna said, “If you think in this marriage, Franklin is the one wearing the breeches, you don’t know him well enough.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s always had a knack for strong women.”

“Since when?” Foggy asked in mock indignation.

“Not to rehash the past, but there’s a number of exhibits I could present as evidence. Catriona. Justine. Marci.”

Foggy groaned. “Justine? Seriously? I went out with her for, like, two seconds.”

“Nevertheless, she had quite the dominant character.”

“Yeah, in hindsight, I guess she did.”

Joanna had an amused smile on her face. “Oh, tell me more.”

“Do _not_ , under any circumstances, tell her more, Murdock. She’ll use it against me. And that’s gonna end ugly.”

“My lips are sealed,” Matt said.

“Aw, and here I was hoping I could learn something about my husband he’s never told me.”

“And never will.”

“Let’s talk about _your_ conquests, Mister Blind Wounded Duck.” Foggy turned to Joanna. “He’s got that vulnerable, innocent cow eyes thing going. Total chick magnet. That’s why I always got second-best in college. Case-in-point: Justine.”

Joanna gave him a gentle cuff on the arm. “Case-in-point: You found one that stuck, and now you’re married to her.”

“Yep, and she’s pretty awesome.”

“How did you two meet?” Matt asked Joanna, and she told him their story, in more detail than what Foggy had already divulged to Matt before. Matt asked about the twins, about their jobs, their lives. There was a lot to talk about.

Foggy wasn’t sure how much time had passed—maybe half an hour— when he couldn’t help but notice that Matt’s strength was visibly declining. He gave Joanna a look. It was their shorthand by now; she immediately understood.

Foggy briefly touched Matt’s arm. “Hey, uh, Joanna needs to get back to her work, and I think you could use some rest, buddy.”

Matt nodded lightly. “Yeah.”

Foggy and Joanna got up. “It was nice to meet you, Matt. I’d shake your hand, but…”

Matt apologetically lifted the one closer to her that had the pulse oximeter clipped to his index finger. “Next time.”

“Next time,” she repeated.

“Thank you for coming by.”

“I hope you get better soon. We should repeat this in nicer surroundings.”

“I would very much like to.”

“Good,” Foggy interjected. “It’s settled. You work on beating this thing, and we’ll have a recuperation party at our house.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Matt agreed.

“Feel better, buddy. I’ll come by again in the next day or two, all right?”

“Thanks, Foggy.”

“See ya.”

When he left the room, he thought Matt already looked a little better today. Or was that just wishful thinking?

+-+-+-+-+

“Go,” Joanna told him that night when they were in the middle of watching some cheesy old comedy together.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked.

“Franklin, the hospital doesn’t usually ask you to come unless they have a good reason. The girls are already fast asleep. Why are we even having this conversation?”

Foggy gave his wife a kiss. “Thank you.”

The whole drive to Manhattan, Foggy’s mind was racing. They’d said Matt’s condition had deteriorated. Although the nurse had been vague on the phone, he couldn’t help but think this was a ‘last rites’ kind of call with a definite undertone of, “You better get here if you still wanna see your friend alive.”

He knew he should have prepared for this moment. He knew he should have been ready to expect that call. But Matt had seemed fine earlier today. It couldn’t be. He’d be fine. They were just taking precautions, right?

But what if? What if he’d be too late? What if Matt hadn’t been able to hang on? Foggy laughed bitterly to himself. For years, he hadn’t even spent a single thought on Matt Murdock. And now that there was a real chance of losing him, why was he even upset?

“Damn you, Murdock,” he muttered under his breath. “You better be alive when I get there, and you better stay that way.”

The hospital was quiet when he arrived; Foggy hurried along deserted hallways manned by skeleton crews. The way to the ICU was way too familiar by now. He was out of breath when he arrived, and he could already see the commotion when he approached Matt’s room.

Through the large window, he could see four people surrounding his bed, hurriedly doing… something. CPR. One of the doctors was rhythmically putting pressure on Matt’s chest with his hands and arms. Foggy stood frozen for a moment, then rushed into the room.

“Mr. Nelson,” one of the nurses immediately addressed him as she walked over to him.

“No,” Foggy whispered, watching in horror what he could see of Matt’s lifeless body being prodded and jostled.

A firm hand enclosed his bicep, pulling him towards the door. “You can’t be in here right now.”

Foggy didn’t resist. A strange mix of numbness and fear took hold of him. The nurse closed the door behind them when they left Matt’s room.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she told him.

“What is happening? Tell me what is happening!”

“Mr. Murdock’s condition has declined rapidly over the last two hours. The sepsis has weakened his organs to the point that this heart couldn’t keep up any longer.”

“I don’t understand. He was fine when I saw him earlier today.”

“Yes, and sometimes this happens very quickly. I’m very sorry.”

Foggy swallowed. “Are you— He’s not dead yet. He’s not dead. You’re resuscitating him. People come back from that all the time.”

“We are trying to, yes.”

“Well, then why are you standing here? Go in there and help him!”

Her voice was calm, rational. “He’s in good hands. But I need you to understand that Mr. Murdock’s chances are slim. Even if we manage to get his heart beating again, there may be serious consequences.”

Foggy felt the tears stinging behind his eyes, felt his cheek muscles contract. “No. Fuck. He— he needs to live. There’s— I wanted him to see my kids.” He wiped angrily at a tear that fell.

“We’re doing everything we can to help him. And I’m very sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave. I will come and get you from the waiting area outside if we have any news.”

“No,” Foggy told her.

“I’m afraid this is not a request.”

He didn’t put up a fight. This nurse—he’d forgotten her name—looked like she would call Security if he made a scene. The ICU doors closed behind him with a soft whirr and then a click.

Then everything fell eerily silent.

Foggy realized he was still wearing the protective clothing he’d hastily put on. He wrestled out of the gloves and gown and put them in a crumpled heap on one of the empty chairs. Then he sank down in the one next to it, letting his head fall into his hands.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Barely thirty feet away, Matt was literally fighting for his life. What if he didn’t make it? What if the nurse came out that door, her face fallen, the bad news at the tip of her tongue?

He fished for his phone and contemplated sending Joanna a message. But what then? She’d only worry, and she couldn’t leave the house because of the girls. Should he call someone? Karen? What could she do now? She’d probably be upset that Foggy hadn’t called her earlier. He still didn’t know who meant anything to Matt that might appreciate being informed of the situation. Or if there even _was_ anyone.

The minutes ticked by slowly, life stretched into infinite dimensions. Foggy didn’t know what to do. Pacing the waiting area didn’t help. Playing with this phone didn’t help. Drumming staccato rhythms with his fingers and feet didn’t help. Trapped in waiting rooms, waiting for a message bearer to appear, was the worst hell Foggy could imagine.

Memories played in his mind—college shenanigans, internship days, Nelson & Murdock. Their friendship had been tested before, and Foggy still couldn’t explain why it hadn’t endured.

It had become apparent that, if Matt made it through this, he’d need help to get back on his feet, and the idea had nagged at Foggy, so he had run it by Joanna. What if they made room for Matt in their home and helped him through recovery? At least for the first few weeks where he’d not be self-reliant.

Joanna had been reluctant, which didn’t come as a surprise. She barely knew Matt, and this would be a huge commitment. Foggy didn’t push. They’d come back to the conversation when the time was right, but the seed had been planted. He really wanted to help Matt, wanted to rekindle the connection they’d once had.

And now? Now Matt was—

Foggy shot to his feet when the ICU doors opened and a doctor in green scrubs appeared. She looked vaguely familiar. Her expression was grim. Foggy already knew what she was going to say.

“I’m sorry,” she began. “We did everything we could.”

Foggy shook his head in disbelief. “No. Why? Why couldn’t he…”

“Would you like to see him?”

Did he? Foggy wasn’t sure. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. I can give you a few minutes.”

“No,” he said, changing his mind. “I mean, yes. I would like to see him.”

“Before you do, you need to know that there will be medical equipment attached to him. He was intubated tonight. You may be seeing tubes and IVs of different kinds, and there was some bleeding from the life-prolonging measures. It can be an unsettling experience. Would you still like to see your friend?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and Foggy numbly followed her inside.

He hesitated in front of Matt’s room. He could see him through the window, lying pale and unmoving. Foggy stared at him, trying to fathom that the body inside was now bereft of life. It wouldn’t quite compute.

He had to push himself to actually enter the room, took several hesitant steps towards the bed. It looked like the medical team had tried to hastily clear away whatever indication there had been of the life-and-death struggle that had taken place here. Foggy could see a few syringe needle caps and a nitrile glove on the floor. He had to force himself to take his eyes off the objects and to look at his friend.

Matt’s face was pallid and sunken, a plastic tube sticking out of his mouth. They had covered his body with the blanket. Foggy carefully stepped closer, reaching out to touch him, but stopped himself at the last second. What if he was already cold?

No, bodies didn’t turn cold that quickly. He had paid attention when watching all those crime scene shows. Yet, he didn’t dare touching Matt. That would make it real.

But it was real. Matt had come back into his life, and now he was dead. Miraculously returned, and now gone forever. It seemed unfathomable.

“Dammit, Matt,” Foggy said. “Goddammit, you son of a bitch. You just had to die, didn’t you? We had… I had plans. I wanted you to meet the girls. You had so much more to discover. And you may have finally had something to live for. This… this is bullshit. Your God is a fucking hypocrite.”

He looked up, and even though there was only whitish-grey ceiling panels, Foggy raised his voice to them. “You hear me? You’re a fucking asshole!”

He drew in a deep breath and let it back out through his nose. “Well, wherever you are now, I hope you finally find peace. Cause I’d like to think you deserve it.”

He felt his chin quiver and his eyes water, and he pressed his hand to this mouth, feeling the tears running down his cheeks. He angrily wiped at them, giving Matt’s lifeless body a last look through watery eyes.

“Goodbye, my friend,” he whispered. Then he turned on his heels and left.

+-+-+-+-+

Joanna was waiting for him when he got home. He’d secretly wished she’d be asleep, because he wasn’t sure he was ready for the onslaught of questions she’d have, knowing full well it was a selfish notion.

He was grateful that there weren’t many words; she could read it on his face. Her hug was warm and loving, and he clung to her for a few, long minutes.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice.

“Yeah, me too,” he responded.

There were no tears. Foggy mostly just felt numb.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, and he loved her even more for respecting his wishes.

In the bedroom, he went through the motions almost robotically. Bathroom, pajamas, bed. Joanna reached for his hand when he lay down on his side of the bed. “Wake me if you, you know… If there’s anything I can do.”

He took it, muttering, “Thanks.”

Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling in the half-dark, contemplating memories of Matt Murdock for a long time before sleep finally claimed him.

+-+-+-+-+

The hospital called Foggy the next day, asking him whether he would like to pick up Matt’s belongings. Foggy went there after work, having spent a large portion of the day making arrangements for Matt’s funeral and all the necessary proceedings. He’d forgotten how arduous all of this actually was.

Way back when, they’d named Foggy not only Matt’s medical proxy but also estate executor. It had seemed like a logical thing to do at the time, but Foggy had never imagined it would ever come to this.

He had tried to find anything in Matt’s paperwork that specified how he wanted his funeral to be arranged—or any indication that he’d prepared for the eventuality of his death. He hadn’t found anything, and it left Foggy at a loss of how to go about it. What would Matt want? Joanna proved a Godsend, helping him make the difficult decisions.

And then there was the matter of taking the time to sort through all of Matt’s legacy. Endless hours of paperwork and memories ahead of him in the days and weeks to come. Foggy wasn’t sure he could face any of it. Not yet, anyway. But someone would have to.

The way to the ICU was still familiar, and he inquired with one of the less familiar nurses at the nurse’s station in the ICU. She handed him a nondescript plastic bag. It wasn’t very heavy.

“These are all of Mr. Murdock’s belongings. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Foggy mumbled a, “Thank you,” and went back to his car.

He emptied the contents of the bag onto the passenger seat. Matt’s electronic gadgets, a binder with Braille pages, and a sealed envelope that bore Foggy’s name on it.

His curiosity piqued, he slid his index finger under the flap and opened it. There was a note on it on a piece of paper, written in handwriting Foggy didn’t recognize. Matt had probably asked someone to write it down for him.

Foggy’s brow creased when he read the note. The request was curious, and invited more questions than it bore answers. Still, Foggy vowed to honor Matt’s last wish.

+-+-+-+-+

It wasn’t hard to find Danny’s dojo. Back in the day, the story about Danny Rand had been all over the media, and Jeri Hogarth’s involvement in the case had been kind of a big thing in the office. Foggy didn’t remember all the details, but over the years there’d been rumors here and there, little unofficial blips on Foggy’s radar about the _Iron Fist_ and the illustrious group called the _Defenders_ , which Matt had apparently joined as well.

After Matt and Foggy had parted ways, Foggy hadn’t had much of an interest in what was going on with New York’s undercover heroes. Karen would try to tease him with bits and pieces of information, but he had never felt the urge to follow up on any of it. When Karen moved away, his information source had abruptly ceased, which Foggy was perfectly fine with.

He found it puzzling that Matt had singled out Danny in his note. They obviously had some kind of connection, but why hadn’t Matt named Danny when Foggy had asked him if he should call anyone? He’d hopefully find out.

The dojo was on the second floor of the red brick building. No elevator. There was a sign on the door that said, ‘Session in progress – Do not disturb’. The door was locked. Foggy decided to wait.

Just when the brain teaser game on his phone was starting to annoy him, the door swung open and people started spilling out. When Foggy went inside, he recognized Danny Rand immediately. The beard was gone, and the curls seemed shorter than what he remembered seeing of him. His well-worn sweat pants and t-shirt made him appear remarkably ordinary, but this was unmistakably the man Foggy was looking for. It struck him that the place, while modern and state-of-the-art, didn’t look anything like what you’d imagine of a billionaire’s dojo.

A student was still speaking with Danny, but the latter briefly leveled his head at Foggy before turning his attention back to his student.

Foggy watched curiously how Danny lightly touched the young man’s shoulder with his hand what he could only interpret as an encouraging gesture. It was hard to imagine that this was the legendary _Iron Fist_ , powerful enough to punch literally through walls. Then again, there had been a time when he would have told anyone it was a preposterous idea that Matt Murdock had super-senses and lived a double-life as a nocturnal vigilante.

Danny gave the student a last nod and then came over to where Foggy stood. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m, uh... Franklin Nelson. I don’t know if you—”

“Nelson. Yeah, I remember you. You worked for Hogarth, right?”

Foggy forced a smile. “Yeah, about a million years ago. But that’s not why I’m here. Can we... can we talk somewhere?”

Danny frowned, then gestured to a door. “In there. I’d only ask that you to take off your shoes.” He indicated shoe rack near the entrance door.

Foggy did as he was told before following Danny into the small office adjacent to the training room. They sat down at a table that was placed against one of the walls. Foggy’s hand found Matt’s note in his jacket pocket, and he took it out, running his finger along the crease in the paper. “Look, I... I don’t really know where to start, but, uh... You know Matt Murdock, right?”

Danny briefly raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. He’s a... lawyer, if I’m not mistaken.”

“He’s not just that, I know that you know that, too—‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’ and all...”

Danny nodded, then he seemed to make a connection. “Wait. Nelson. You’re his partner—Foggy.”

“Ex-partner,” he corrected, “but, yeah.”

“He’s mentioned you a few times. You studied law together. Had a law practice together.”

“Can I just ask how well you know him? Are you— are you friends, you and Matt?”

Danny shrugged with one shoulder. “Friends may be an overstatement. We’d run into each other every now and then. Helped each other out a few times. We had a few things in common. Why are you asking?”

Foggy sighed, looked down at the note in his lap, trying to fight the tears he felt welling just beneath the surface. “Look, I, uh... There’s no easy way to say this, but Matt, he... he died.”

The silence that followed prompted Foggy to look up. There was confusion on Danny’s face. Sadness. Shock. Foggy handed him the note. “Matt left this.”

Danny took it and unfolded it, read it carefully before he let his hands sink down. “When?”

“Three days ago. He was... he was shot, but what killed him in the end was an infection. Multi-organ shutdown.” Foggy let out a cynical chuckle. “Some would say poetic justice. I say it’s a fucking tragedy.” The tears couldn’t be stopped now, and he angrily wiped at them with one hand.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said in a low voice.

“Yeah.” Foggy sniffed once. “And you know what the worst part about all this is? We’re not even— We weren’t even friends anymore. He’d cut me out of his life, or maybe I cut him out of mine. Before this happened, I hadn’t seen him in, I don’t know, ten years, probably. And now he’s dead, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“He has a way about him, doesn’t he?”

Foggy stayed silent, not sure what to say to this virtual stranger. It was Danny who broke the silence. “Is there going to be a funeral?”

Foggy nodded. “In two days. You’re welcome to come.”

“Is there any way I can help with the arrangements?”

Foggy frowned. “You mean financially?”

Danny looked embarrassed. “It would be the least I can do.”

“No, that’s all covered. But thank you. Maybe you could make a donation in his name. To... I don’t even know who to. His church, maybe. Or an organization for the blind. I, uh, I should look into this, set something up. Maybe more people will...” Foggy trailed off.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can help. If you’ll let me.”

Foggy nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Consider it done. Is there anything else I can do? Does Claire know?”

“No, she... Not from me. I had the impression that he’d severed ties with her.”

“Perhaps, but I think she’d still like to know. I can deliver the message.”

“Yeah. That’d be... that’d be good. And I don’t know... Is there anyone else? Has he talked about anyone?”

“Maybe Jessica.”

“Jones?”

“You know her, too?”

“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths… It’s kind of a long story.”

Danny leaned back in his chair. “I can get in touch with her, too, if you like.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Foggy reached into his inside jacket pocked to fish out his wallet, pulling a business card out from it that he handed to Danny. “My number is on there. If you call me tomorrow morning, I can let you know about the details for the funeral.”

Danny took it. “I will. Thank you for coming by. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

“I will see you at the funeral.”

Foggy actually chuckled. “That sounds like a really cheesy line from an aged pop song.”

Danny gave him a lopsided, good-natured smile. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“But, yeah, I will see you at the funeral, Mr. Rand.”

“Danny. Please.”

Foggy nodded. “All right, Danny it is. While we’re at it, you can call me Foggy.”

“Franklin too mundane for you?”

Foggy grinned. “It’s kind of a long story.”

+-+-+-+-+

Matt’s funeral was a quiet, subdued affair. There was only a handful of people other than Foggy and his family. Karen had flown in, bringing her boyfriend whom Foggy had not met before. Danny, Colleen and Claire were there. Danny passed on condolences from Jessica, who apparently hated funerals and thought there were better ways of paying their respects. Foggy couldn’t blame her.

In fact, he wasn’t sure Matt would have liked his own funeral. Foggy had tried his best to anticipate how Matt would have wanted to be given his last farewells. He came up empty. It wasn’t something they’d ever discussed.

One thing he’d made sure, though—for Matt to be buried close to his father. He definitely would have wanted that.

The eulogy wasn’t truly meaningful, except when Danny stood up and said a few words about what Matt had meant to him. It was good to know what there’d been at least one person out there that Matt had had a bond with—loose as it may have been. Foggy once more wondered what those last years had been for Matt. He tried to imagine that there’s been some happiness there. As much as Matt’s Catholic guilt would have allowed him.

Afterwards, the group scattered to meet at the proposed location in downtown Manhattan. Foggy hadn’t been there for a long time before all this happened, and he hadn’t been surprised, when he scouted the once familiar Hell’s Kitchen streets, that Josie’s Bar was no more.

Instead, there was now a coffee shop with way too colorful window displays. It didn’t feel right as a venue to pay their last respects to Matt, so Foggy had scoured the area and found a bar nearby that felt more appropriate. It wasn’t nearly as seedy as their once favorite social hangout, but it’d do, and he was sure Matt would appreciate the sentiment.

Foggy had reserved a table in the back, and soon the small group of unlikely associates was gathered around the table, consuming drinks and making jokes. Joanna was missing from Foggy’s side—she’d offered to take the girls home early, and something told Foggy that maybe he needed to be alone for this.

Foggy wasn’t surprised that Jessica Jones joined them eventually, and he was glad for it. He suspected Matt would have appreciated having her here. It was also Jessica who stood up from the table and returned shortly thereafter with a tray full of shot glasses containing a clear liquid.

She put it down in the middle of the table, took one, and raised it.

“To the unluckiest blind ninja idiot who survived all the most intense fights but let his ass finally get kicked by a fucking infection.”

Everyone took a shot glass and raised it along with Jessica.

“To Matt Murdock,” Foggy said.

“To Matt Murdock,” the cluster of voices echoed.

The tequila burned all the way down, leaving Foggy with a lingering warmth that slowly spread through his insides. It was the perfect metaphor for what Matt had meant and always _would_ mean to him.

+-+-+-+-+


	2. The pesky old Murdock pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternative ending that just kinda happens when you don't want to kill off Matt Murdock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Okay, so... I really hate unhappy endings. Especially those as terminal as the previous chapter. I just couldn't leave it at that, so here's the alternative ending for those among you who feel the same way I do. I hope I did full blown sepsis recovery justice. If not, I'm receptive to complaints.

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“Mr. Murdock’s condition has declined rapidly over the last two hours. The sepsis has weakened his organs to the point that this heart couldn’t keep up any longer.” 

“I don’t understand. He was fine when I saw him earlier today.” 

“Yes, and sometimes this happens very quickly. I’m very sorry.” 

Foggy swallowed. “Are you— He’s not dead yet. He’s not dead. You’re resuscitating him. People come back from that all the time.” 

“We are trying to, yes.” 

“Well, then why are you standing here? Go in there and help him!” 

Her voice was calm, rational. “He’s in good hands. But I need you to understand that Mr. Murdock’s chances are slim. Even if we manage to get his heart beating again, there may be serious consequences.” 

Foggy felt the tears stinging behind his eyes, felt his cheek muscles contract. “No. Fuck. He— he needs to live. There’s— I wanted him to see my kids.” He wiped angrily at a tear that fell. 

“We’re doing everything we can to help him. And I’m very sorry, but I will have to ask you to leave. I will come and get you from the waiting area outside if we have any news.” 

“No,” Foggy told her. 

“I’m afraid this is not a request.” 

He didn’t put up a fight. This nurse—he’d forgotten her name—looked like she would call Security if he made a scene. The ICU doors closed behind him with a soft whirr and then a click.

Then everything fell eerily silent.

Foggy realized he was still wearing the protective clothing he’d hastily put on. He wrestled out of the gloves and gown and put them in a crumpled heap on one of the empty chairs. Then he sank down in the one next to it, letting his head fall into his hands.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Barely thirty feet away, Matt was literally fighting for his life. What if he didn’t make it? What if the nurse came out that door, her face fallen, the bad news at the tip of her tongue?

He fished for his phone and contemplated sending Joanna a message. But what then? She’d only worry, and she couldn’t leave the house because of the girls. Should he call someone? Karen? What could she do now? She’d probably be upset that Foggy hadn’t called her earlier. He still didn’t know who meant anything to Matt that might appreciate being informed of the situation. Or if there even _was_ anyone.

The minutes ticked by slowly, life stretched into infinite dimensions. Foggy didn’t know what to do. Pacing the waiting area didn’t help. Playing with this phone didn’t help. Drumming staccato rhythms with his fingers and feet didn’t help. Trapped in waiting rooms, waiting for a message bearer to appear, was the worst hell Foggy could imagine.

He shot to his feet when the doors opened and a woman in green scrubs appeared. Her expression was inscrutable.

“Mr. Nelson, I’m Dr. Coleman.”

“Is he… is he alive?”

“We have reason to be cautiously optimistic.”

Foggy’s heart leapt. Matt was alive! He rubbed both palms down his chin. “That’s… What does that mean?”

“We managed to get his heart beating again, but his organs have been severely affected by the sepsis. His heart and lungs were compromised by the infection, which is why we had put him on a heart/lung bypass, also called ECMO. It’s a machine that removes carbon dioxide from his blood and circulates oxygen throughout the body when the lungs can’t function on their own.

“His other organs are also shutting down, and we will try to manage this as best as we can. We had to intubate, and he will have to be on the ventilator for the time being.

“I know this is a lot to take in, but you need to understand that this is very serious. Even though he may be stable for now, his situation is very touch-and-go. He might not survive the night.”

Foggy drew in a shaky breath. Yeah. Well, that had to be expected, wouldn’t it? But Matt was alive. He was a fighter. He could still beat this.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

The doctor nodded.

“Can I see him?” Foggy asked tentatively.

“I’m afraid that we don’t recommend visitors at this stage. My advice would be to go home and get some rest. We will notify you if there is a change in his condition.”

“You just said he might not survive the night. I don’t— I should be here. Can I stay here?”

The doctor nodded again. “Yes, you are free to stay in the waiting area.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

The doctor gave him another nod and went back inside the ICU. Foggy sank back down in one of the chairs, unlocking the screen on his phone. He still didn’t know what to tell Joanna, but he needed to talk to someone. He texted her, ‘Are you still up?’

She responded by giving him a call right away, and the words spilled out of him.

“Do you want me to come?” she asked when he had told her what had transpired.

“And the girls?”

“I’ll call my parents.”

“Now? It’s past midnight.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll come.”

“No,” he declined. “I don’t want to make a fuss. It’s fine. I’ll stay here, in case something happens.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Get some sleep. I’ll be all right.”

“Honey, I’d hate to have you sitting there all night by yourself.”

Foggy eyes were beginning to water from how awesome his wife was. “I love you for saying that, but honestly, I’m okay. You stay with the girls. There’s no need to drag your parents through a sleepless night.”

She finally relented. “Okay. Promise to call me if there’s anything I can do, yeah?”

“I will. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The first hour dragged on endlessly. No one came out of the ICU, which Foggy could only interpret as a good sign. He went in search of a coffee machine, and found one down the hall. The coffee tasted as bad as he’d expected.

Time lost its meaning after that. He must have dozed off at some point, because there was a blanket awkwardly draped over him when he came to. He looked around, but the waiting area was still deserted. It was probably a nurse that had taken pity on him.

The sky was still dark outside. His phone told him it was 5:05 am. Matt was still alive. They would have woken him otherwise.

He went to the visitors restroom and half-heartedly splashed cold water in his face. The paper towels were stiff and scratchy. A look in the mirror confirmed he looked as shitty as he felt. With a sigh, he braced himself to brave the harsh reality outside the restroom doors.

The vending machine coffee number two didn’t taste any better than the first, but what had he expected? He needed the caffeine. Or at least that’s what he told himself. He was still nursing the paper cup it came in when a nurse he vaguely recognized came out of the ICU. Foggy approached her.

“Can you tell me anything about Matt?”

“Mr. Murdock?”

“Yes. How is he?” To be sure, he added, “I’m Franklin Nelson, his medical proxy.”

She looked hesitant, but probably recognized him too from previous visits. “He’s stable for now.”

“He didn’t get worse?”

“It’s hard to say. He is still in critical condition.”

“Can he— Will he make it?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss his prognosis. You’d have to speak to his physician.”

Foggy nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”

“If you give me a few moments, I will see if she’s available.”

“Thanks, that would… That would be great.”

Foggy watched her walk off in the other direction, and then go back into the ICU several minutes later. By the time he finished the god-awful coffee, Dr. Coleman came back out into the waiting room.

“You stayed all this time?” she asked him.

He gave her a wan smile. “Yeah. I took it as a good sign that no one came to get me.”

She smiled back. “Indeed.”

“How is he?”

“Not much change, but that’s not entirely unexpected. His vital signs are stable, but I would still caution against undue optimism.”

“Is there any chance I can see him?”

Foggy could see that Dr. Coleman hesitated, but she eventually gave him a small nod. “Five minutes. You will need to gown up.”

“Yeah, I know the drill.”

While he donned all the protective gear, Foggy tried to brace himself for what might expect him this time, but it was still a shock to the system to see Matt hooked up to so many machines and IVs. The respirator hissed rhythmically in tune with Matt’s chest rising and falling. Subdued beeping from a monitor not quite in sync mixed with the clicking of another machine Foggy couldn’t quite identify.

Matt lay amidst all the machinery, small and pale and helpless. Foggy’s brow creased with sudden, overwhelming emotion.

He gave the nurse a questioning look that came in and adjusted something on one of the machines. “Can I touch him?”

“Yes, but please be careful with the equipment.”

As the nurse left, Foggy edged closer to Matt’s side, carefully placing his palm on Matt’s bare arm. He wished he wasn’t wearing gloves. Matt’s skin was warm to the touch. Was he still running a fever?

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy said, his voice unexpectedly teary. “You gave us quite a scare tonight. But I’m glad you decided to stay. Now I need you to get better, to make it through this. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?”

He stared at Matt’s face, which was inscrutable and expressionless, and partially obstructed by the breathing tube sticking out of his mouth. There was no way of knowing that Matt could hear or comprehend any of this.

Foggy felt self-conscious, even though there was no one else in the room with them, but he kept talking. “They’re not letting me stay very long, so I’m gonna have to go soon. But I’ll be back, okay? And I want you to keep fighting this, so you can meet the girls, and get to know them, and get to know my wonderful wife. Keep working towards that, okay, Matt?”

There was still no reaction from Matt, and Foggy gently squeezed his arm before he let go. “I’ll see you later.”

+-+-+-+-+

Joanna was already up when Foggy got home. She usually was a sound sleeper, but Foggy guessed her sleep may have been more restless than usually that night, too.

She greeted him in the kitchen in her pajama bottoms and one of his old t-shirts that she liked to wear at night, even if it hung loosely on her frame. She’d never been svelte by any standards, and the pregnancy had left her with a few more pounds than she’d had before the twins. She liked to complain about it sometimes, but Foggy loved her the way she was—curves and everything.

When she asked about Matt, he gave her what he hoped as an encouraging smile, but he had a feeling it was falling short. She took him in her arms when he explained Matt might still not make it, despite the fact that he’d clung to life so far.

He buried his head in her shoulder, and for the first time in hours, he felt a glimmer of strength returning that he hadn’t even known he’d relinquished. No matter how bleak things looked, there were people who loved him, people he could come home to and feel at home with. What must it have been like for Matt, who’d had no one. For years.

In hindsight, Foggy thought he’d made the decision there and then—at that moment in their kitchen, the girls asleep, two mugs of steaming coffee on the counter. It took some convincing to go from idea to realization, but over two months later, he helped a gaunt and shaky-legged Matt Murdock climb the steps to their house, which would become his new home for the foreseeable future.

It hadn’t been an easy decision, either. Matt’s progress had been slow but steady. After that first night, the ECMO had ultimately saved his life, which he’d been connected to for eight days to allow his lungs to heal and breathe for him again. He’d been on a ventilator for another week after coming off ECMO, and on dialysis for two weeks to support his slowly healing kidneys.

A team of surgeons, specialists and nurses had overseen his recovery. There was still the gunshot to tend to, and on top of that, there had been another crisis when poor circulation from Matt’s insufficiently functioning heart impacted oxygenation of the tissue in his legs. Thankfully, it never progressed to the point where amputation was seriously considered, but Foggy knew that it might have been a complication they could have had to face.

Foggy had been there every step of the way—from the time Matt regained consciousness to the time he’d first met Mia and Ellie, the time he’d made sure Joanna got to know the person behind the name Matt Murdock, and the time Matt took his first steps in weeks on wobbly legs that wouldn’t support him without help.

They’d had their ups and downs, surely. Foggy knew Matt wasn’t always the easiest person to be around, especially when he felt helpless and overwhelmed and frustrated. Foggy took the verbal onslaughts of Matt’s irritation, the silent defeat of depression and the tears of humiliation on the chin. It made the moments of progress and gratitude and joy all the more rewarding.

It had been the day of the twins’ first visit, Foggy still remembered it, clear as day. Matt had been off the ventilator for a week, his weakened stamina only allowing for ten minute visits at a time. They’d taken Ellie first, the more assertive of the two.

Ellie had eagerly followed Foggy to Matt’s bed, and she’d become enamored very quickly with this interesting man who was blind and her father’s friend, and how he watched movies by someone narrating the whole story to him so he could imagine the movie in his head.

She’d insisted that, once Matt was well enough, they watch their favorite animated movie, _Morkle_ , with audio description and eyes closed, so she could know what it was like for Matt.

Mia had been considerably shyer, but had eventually warmed to Matt’s somewhat diminished charm that was still going strong despite his physical limitations. Once her intimidation by all the medical equipment had been alleviated, she’d peppered Matt with questions about his blindness and if his eyes hurt, and how he was able to walk.

Foggy had paid close attention to Matt’s reactions, and he’d been so at ease with both Mia and Ellie, it had warmed Foggy’s heart. He had come home that evening, running the idea by Joanna that they could remodel what had once been meant as a guest room and slowly become an all-purpose storage/craft/laundry folding room, back to a proper guest room, and that it would be perfect to help Matt get back on his feet. It wouldn’t be forever. Just a few weeks until he’d be able to support himself again.

He’d given her time to warm to the idea, given her time to get to know Matt, and to see for herself that it would be the decent thing to do. It didn’t take long for her to slide her arm around Foggy’s back one night on the couch with a glass of wine and tell him that she would start clearing things out of the guest room if he still wanted to go through with the idea. Foggy had been thrilled.

Foggy had gone to see Matt the next day, and they’d had a long talk about his future. Matt, predictably, had been less enthusiastic at the thought of moving into the Nelson home, temporary solution or not. The pesky old Murdock pride. Foggy was fully prepared for it, and presented a number of convincing arguments that Matt eventually but reluctantly yielded to. Foggy told him with a grin, “It’ll be glorious. You’ll see. Just like the good old days.”

“Less beer, more clamor of fighting children,” Matt dead-panned.

“First of all, we’ve upgraded to fine wine. Second of all, our children don’t fight. Okay, they don’t fight often. Not too often. Ah, fuck it. You’ll love them anyway. They’re mostly well-behaved.”

Matt had laughed, and that was that.

It took Matt long weeks of pushing himself to his limits to become a semblance of his old, independent self. Foggy secured the best physical therapy the hospital had to offer, sat with Matt through breathing exercises and other fun things like manually loosening the phlegm in his chest. He thought he’d seen Matt at lowest after Elektra had left him in college, but this was taking it to new levels.

Foggy brought Mia and Ellie to the hospital a number of times, and eventually he saw that it wasn’t just his imagination that the kids were good for Matt. He smiled more, laughed more, seemed less withdrawn. Maybe he pushed himself a little too hard during these visits, because Foggy also saw how exhausted he was afterwards, but whenever Foggy inquired if he should keep these visits shorter, Matt insisted that he loved spending time with Foggy’s family. It may have contributed to Joanna’s eventual agreement to helping with Matt’s care at their house.

It didn’t take long for Joanna to offer taking over some of Foggy’s “Matt-sitting duties”, as she liked to call them, if only so that Foggy could spend more time with his children. He knew that Matt was considerably less at ease with Foggy’s wife, but Jo had a way of quickly winning people over, almost like Matt did, but with less wounded, blind duck charm.

There was one incident, Foggy recalled, where Jo had come home a little shaken. Matt had seemed in particularly low spirits that day, and her plan to coax him down to the cafeteria had ended in a panic attack of sorts, which had left Joanna out of her depth, and Matt humiliated and angry.

Foggy had a feeling that Matt was having sensory issues, with all the meds he was on, but he didn’t know how to explain that to his wife without sharing confidential information that wasn’t his to share.

But Jo being Jo, she’d gone back to see Matt two days later like nothing had happened. Foggy sometimes wondered if it had been kind of a pivotal moment for them. Matt had always had abandonment issues, and Jo hadn’t run away like Matt probably would have expected. She’d seen Matt show weakness, and had made it a point not to embarrass him for doing so. It felt like they had bonded over the whole thing in a way that they hadn’t before.

Foggy had told Jo everything he could about Matt—about their time in college, their first steps in the big, bad corporate legal world, their meager attempt at running a law practice together, the Fisk interlude, and how they’d fallen out over the Castle case. Of course he had to omit certain facts around Matt’s vigilante activities, but he still managed to spin a believable tale without making Matt or himself look like total jerks. Or so he hoped.

And so here they were, Matt being invited into their home to become part of the family. The girls had insisted to make a banner above the door, even though Foggy insisted that Matt wouldn’t be able to see it, but Mia had a solution for that as well. She’d taken a picture of the banner, printed it out, and traced the outlines with a 3D pen. “We can give this to him, and he can feel it,” she had proudly proclaimed.

The banner read “WELCOME, MATT!” and Mia insisted that they stop in front of the door for Matt to appreciate the artwork. Foggy had a feeling Matt welcomed the short break. The short walk from the car and the six steps up to the entrance already left him slightly winded.

“That’s beautiful,” he beamed at Mia, who had handed him the 3D drawing. “Thank you so much.”

“I helped too,” Ellie added. “I made the flowers.”

“They’re wonderful. I love all of it.”

It was everything Matt needed to win the girls over, and both Foggy and Joanna smiled at each other. If this was any indication, they were already off to a good start.

Once Matt had been parked on the couch in the living room, Foggy told him, “Let me go grab your stuff from the car. Give me a sec.”

Matt gave him a tired smile. “I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Foggy returned a minute later with Matt’s duffel bag. He pointed vaguely in the direction of the corridor door. “Okay, so your room is back there. No stairs, so that’s a plus. It’s all ready for you to take a much-earned nap, if you like.”

He could see that Matt was fighting with the angel and devil on his shoulder. Stubborn Matt Murdock was probably intent on pushing through the fatigue, but Foggy could clearly see the lines of exhaustion in Matt’s features. He’d lost so much weight, too.

Foggy decided to make the decision for Matt, so he went up to him and held out a hand towards him. “I’m reaching out my hand. Come on, Murdock. Up you get.”

Matt let out the smallest of sighs and took it. Foggy gently pulled him up. “There you go. Let me show you to your new humble lodgings.”

Ellie was next to them right away. “Can we show Matt our room?”

Foggy patted her shoulder. “Later, sweetie. Matt’s really tired. Remember how we told you he needs to build up his strength again, and that he won’t be able to do a lot of the things normal people do for a while?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed.

“He’ll need a bit of rest before we can chivvy him up the stairs.”

Matt angled his face in Ellie’s direction. “I really wanna see your room, and I promise I’ll do it after I’ve gotten some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” she easily agreed, and off she went.

Matt muttered a quick thanks to Foggy, who told him, “You don’t have to do everything they ask you just to please them, you know? I want you to say no when you need to.”

“Okay, sure.”

“I mean it. They can be blood suckers, and they love taking the whole hand when you give them the little finger. Just because you live here now, doesn’t mean you need to be Awesome Uncle Matt all the time.”

“But I wanna be Awesome Uncle Matt.”

Foggy chuckled. “Just don’t let them get used to it.”

He opened the door to the guest room and led Matt inside. “This is it. Do you need me to give you the verbal or the tactile tour? How out of whack are your senses?”

Matt stood for a moment and closed his eyes, concentrating on his surroundings. Then he turned to Foggy and started pointing at furniture. “Bed, nightstand, wardrobe. Dresser of some kind?”

“It’s our old changing table, but close. We’ve tried to make some room in the wardrobe and cupboards, but there’s a bit of our stuff still in here. Just take whatever space you need. We want you to feel at home here, okay? I got some of your clothes from your apartment, but the contents of your wardrobe were a little sparse, so I also bought you some new stuff. You know, low-key colors, soft fabric, the works. We can spend some time labeling them when you’re up for it. Ask whenever you need anything.”

“Thanks, Foggy.” Matt’s voice was truly grateful.

“Any time. Do you want me to get you anything? A glass of water? Help you unpack your things?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. There’s a guest bathroom across the hall. Just a toilet and a small sink. Jo’s set aside a few towels for you there. Shower’s upstairs, unfortunately.”

“Thanks. I’ll manage.”

“We’ve had this conversation already, but I know you won’t want to ask for help, but please ask for help, okay?”

Matt gave him a small but slightly embarrassed smile. Foggy emphasized it with a, “I mean it. No false pride. We’re here to help—both Jo and I. Even the girls. Ask for help. Repeat after me.”

“Foggy…”

“Repeat after me.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Ask for help,” he said.

“Good. Now get some rest.”

“Thanks. I will.”

Foggy closed the door behind him, listening for a few seconds before he was satisfied and went back to the kitchen.

Joanna was making a cup of tea. “Want some?”

“Sure,” he said. “Earl Grey.”

“Hot,” Jo grinned at him.

“Nerd,” he teased her.

“Everything going well?”

“Yeah, so far, so good. I hope he can sleep for a bit. He gets… I don’t know… Sometimes he’s not good with new environments.”

“Because of his blindness?”

‘No, because of his hyper-aware senses,’ Foggy wanted to say, but didn’t. “I’m not sure, but I think that’s part of it.”

She poured the boiling water into the mugs. “From what I’ve seen, he’s probably too exhausted to even care much. His body will claim what it needs, new environment or not.”

They both went over to the couch. Foggy took a sip from his tea, then fished his phone from his pocket. “I should text Karen.”

Karen. He’d eventually told her about Matt—the day after he’d almost died. Their phone conversation had been brief. She was expectedly shocked and distraught, but reserved enough about it for Foggy to flat-out ask, “What exactly happened between you two?”

“It’s a long story, Foggy.”

“He didn’t want me to tell you he was in the hospital, even when his condition was starting to get critical. That doesn’t seem like Matt.”

She sighed at the other end. “Well, we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much.”

“I betrayed him, Foggy.”

“As in, you cheated on him?”

“No, it was worse than that.”

“Huh,” was all that Foggy could respond. “Is that why you left New York?”

“It played a role, but it wasn’t all about Matt. I’ll tell you the story some time over a glass of wine, if you ever make it out here.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Consider the invitation accepted.”

“I’m glad you called me. Keep me updated, will you?”

“Do you want me to tell Matt that we spoke?”

There was a brief silence. “I don’t know. I’ll let you be the judge. You know him better than I do.”

Foggy let out a hollow chuckle. “I used to, or I thought I did. I think this is unfamiliar territory for all of us by now. But, yeah, I’ll see. Take care, okay?”

“Thanks. You too.”

Foggy had kept her in the loop regarding Matt’s progress, and he’d eventually told Matt about it, too.

Matt had been expectedly ambiguous about it, feigning indifference, but Foggy had a feeling he wasn’t all that upset. He wasn’t one for platitudes, but maybe time _did_ heal all wounds. He decided not to press the issue, and Matt hadn’t made any proactive remarks relating to Karen, so they’d pretty much hushed up the whole thing. Still, when Foggy had asked him if he minded that he kept sending Karen updates, he’d given his consent, so at least Foggy didn’t have to feel guilty.

He kept his text to Karen short. ‘Brought Matt home with us. He’s resting now. Everything a-okay.’ He added a _thumbs up_ emoji and one with a bed. He put his phone on the coffee table after he hit the Send button.

He looked at his wife. “Did we do the right thing?”

“You’re asking me?”

“You’re the sage in this relationship.”

“I’m frankincense, at best,” she quipped.

It elicited a chuckle from Foggy. “You’re hilarious.”

“That’s why you married me.”

“I know. But I was actually being serious.”

“Honey, why would you even ask yourself that? It was the _only_ thing to do. Your friend needed help, and you didn’t even hesitate to offer it. Where would Matt be if not here with us? I don’t even want to imagine. You’re his support system. _We_ are. We’d be total assholes if we’d not offered.”

A wave of emotion washed over Foggy. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“Remind yourself of this moment, the next time we have a fight,” she said with a slight smirk.

“Remind me of this moment when Matt starts becoming a total pain in the ass, because I can already tell you with a hundred percent certainty that it will happen eventually.”

She nodded ever so slightly. “He’s a complicated guy, isn’t he?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I can’t wait to find out.”

+-+-+-+-+

Foggy hadn’t been half wrong when he’d said that. They’d all known that it wouldn’t be easy. Matt’s state of mind oscillated between optimistic, grateful, and confident on some days, and frustrated, exhausted, depressed, and outright foul on others.

The good days were cherished by everyone, but on the bad days, it was usually Foggy who took the brunt of it. Truth be told, he thought this would be easier. Joanna worked freelance from home most of the time, and client meetings were few and far between. Foggy didn’t want to fob all the Matt-care off to her, but they had talked about it, and she had assured Foggy that she’d be happy to do what she could, and that they’d discuss other options if it turned out that their arrangement wasn’t doable.

The first two weeks were controlled chaos, with everyone trying to adjust to their new routines, and the girls still feeling this new person in their house was a novelty to get overly excited about, but by week three, Foggy felt like they were starting to fall into a new, fairly well-tuned rhythm.

By week four, Foggy was utterly exhausted. If he was honest with himself, it was hard to squeeze work, family and Matt’s personal care all into seven days of the week, and do any of the things reasonably well. His case load at work hadn’t exactly lessened, and there were things he was still trying to catch up on from the extended absences due to the many hospital visits in the past weeks. He was barely staying above water.

Joanna’s extra Matt-related duties meant she sometimes didn’t get as much done at home as she usually did, so there’d been more than one occasion where dinner wasn’t ready for the kids, or they’d missed Mia’s guitar lesson, or rushed out of the house with half the equipment forgotten for Ellie’s indoor soccer practice.

And in the middle of it all was Matt, all too acutely noticing all of the friction, putting on his best guilty conscience expression, and insisting that he didn’t need all the attention. He’d tell Joanna he was fine, would more often than not reject her help, and refuse to take his pain medication. He’d stubbornly insist that he was perfectly okay getting up and down the stairs by himself for a much needed shower, and then spectacularly fail at just that, leaving Foggy to pick up the pieces in the form of insisting he ice the swollen knee from the fall.

All through it, Matt looked like he was being forced to listen to fingernails scraping down a blackboard for hours on end, giving Foggy his usual, ‘I don’t want all this attention, it’s not that bad,’ spiel, which prompted Foggy to pay _extra_ attention to Matt being overly reckless and unreasonable.

The fuse finally blew when Joanna had come home from getting groceries, finding Matt in the laundry room down in the basement, trying to figure out how to wash his underwear. She’d sat Foggy down in the evening with a, “Franklin, we need to talk.”

“I think you need to talk to Matt,” she said to him. “He was trying to do his own laundry this afternoon, even though I had explicitly asked him this morning if he had any clothes that needed washing.”

Foggy sighed. “Yeah. He gets like that sometimes.”

“This isn’t really working if he keeps refusing my help.”

“He just hates not being independent.”

“I get that, but there needs to be some expectation management. If he wants this to work, something’s gotta give. It won’t help any of us if he goes and breaks a leg on the basement stairs on top of everything. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re going the extra mile by clandestinely trying to make up for all the crap he pulls, because you think you’re the only person he actually listens to.

“You can’t keep doing this, because, look at you. You’re burning the candle at both ends, and it’s starting to affect all of us in a really negative way.”

Foggy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We’re missing appointments for the kids, the dishes keep piling up in the kitchen sink because no one has the energy to empty the dishwasher, and we’re all a lot more short-fused than we used to be because, frankly, I think everyone’s nerves are a bit frayed.”

Foggy knew Jo was right. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed it himself. It was just… He knew Matt too well not to know how jarringly uncomfortable he was to have a virtual stranger help him with the most basic, mundane tasks. His stubbornness, his irrepressible pride, it had to be eating at him every minute of every day.

Still, Jo was also right about the fact that he needed to have a talk with Matt about all of this. He put his hand on his wife’s knee and squeezed it affectionately. “I’ll talk to him.”

“When?”

“Wow, you’re really pissed off, huh?”

“Franklin, it’s no laughing matter. We can’t keep going like this.”

He rubbed a weary hand over his chin. “All right. I’ll do it right now.”

Her hand came on top of his. “Thanks.”

Not five minutes later, Foggy lightly rapped on the door of Matt’s room. “You awake, buddy?”

He peeked his head in, and Matt was giving him a short wave from his bed by holding up his hand.

Foggy hesitated by the door. “Did you listen to all of this?”

“All of what?” Matt asked, his tone innocent.

“Why am I even asking.”

It was then that Matt frowned. “I didn’t listen to anything. The meds mess with my senses. You know that.”

“Yeah, the meds you’ve not been taking.”

Matt actually looked hurt. “Are you counting my pills now?”

He sighed. “No. Should I?”

“Foggy…”

“Can we talk?” He walked closer and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Is this the part where I say no, and you leave?”

“This is the part where I say my piece, and you listen.”

“Ah,” Matt said mockingly. “That one. Apologies, I get them confused sometimes.”

“Matt, I’m serious.”

“This is about the laundry, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and not just the laundry. Joanna said you’ve been refusing her help. She asked you this morning if you had anything for the wash, and you said no, and then you crawl down the wooden stairs to try and wash it yourself that same day? Even _you_ gotta realize that there’s something wrong with that picture.”

Matt suddenly looked very self-conscious. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. You’re here because we want you to impose. Because we know you will have to impose in order to get better. We went into this, knowing full well that you were going to impose, and we all agreed that that was the way it was going to be.

“I mean, I get it. You hate not being able to do shit. I hate _seeing_ that you’re not able to do shit. But we’re here to help you get back to that point where you become that independent person again. And you won’t get there by refusing our help, or by overexerting yourself, or needlessly trying to be a hero—no pun intended.”

Matt lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a start, but can we agree that you’re gonna do something about it, too?”

“Do, as in…?”

“As in accepting Jo’s help when she asks. And not just that, by actively asking for help when you need it. You need to separate yourself from the idea that it’s humiliating to let her in. She’s pretty awesome, and she likes you, and she’s fine with it if you exploit that for however long you need. She’ll tell you no when she needs to, but if she tells you yes, you better damn well take it.”

Matt looked like he was about to cry, but for some reason it made a tiny voice inside of Foggy want to slap him across the face and yell at him to own up to the errors of his ways. Foggy added, “Do we have an agreement?”

“This is really hard, Foggy,” he said meekly.

“Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t want to trade places, believe me. But I’d like to think, if we did, you’d do the same for me.”

Matt’s mouth twitched, and Foggy was about to lighten the mood with a jovial comment, when Matt said in a low voice, “Why are you doing this, Foggy?”

“This what? Giving you the third degree about your ever persisting stubbornness?”

Matt didn’t take the bait, his voice grave. “Putting up with this, tending to me like a helpless toddler.”

“Do I even need to say it out loud? Because you’re my friend, dumbass.”

“All of this goes a little beyond simple friendship, Foggy.”

“Wait. Are you thinking I’m doing this out of pity?”

Matt’s aimed his eyes at somewhere near Foggy’s chin. “Are you?”

“I can’t believe you’d even ask that. Seriously, are you trying to insult me? Cause you’re doing a pretty good job at it right now.”

“I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Yeah, you better be. And just for the record, I am _not_ doing this out of pity. I wanna help you. Because I like you. Because I want you to get better, and get back on your feet so you can go and be badass again. Because my kids love you, and my wife seems to be getting there as well.

“And to come back to the matter at hand, if _you_ had an equally awesome wife offering me room service, I’d be all over it. I’d come to expect the same from you.”

That made Matt’s mouth quirk into a small smile, and that was at least something.

Foggy patted Matt’s knee next to him below the blanket. “Let me offer you a deal. We’re gonna be home most of tomorrow, cause thank fuck it’s finally a weekend where Ellie doesn’t have some soccer game or other, and my lovely wife and I will take turns taking care of my frail, ailing friend.

“And whenever it’s Jo’s turn, I will sit back on the couch and relax and not feel the need to intervene, because I will know that you are perfectly fine with having her do all the shit that you need us to do. And it’s gonna be super awesome, because I could really use a quiet weekend at home without all the drama and the work stress and the running from A to B to C to make ends meet.

“And don’t you dare say that you’re contributing to all the drama and the stress, because that’s not what I meant. This is our home, and even with you here, I want it to feel like home. And that only works if you do your part in being a good and cooperative patient. Is that a deal you think you can agree to?”

“I don’t know, it sounds like I’m getting the short end of the stick.”

Foggy was about to bristle, but then Matt grinned and added, “Relax, Foggy. Yes, that’s a deal I can agree to.”

“Good. Now where’s that laundry?”

“Joanna already took care of it.”

“See? That’s how awesome she is.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“What else is there I can do for you tonight? No false modesty, remember?”

“I’m okay, Foggy.”

“You wanna come out and join us for a while?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to Joanna.”

Foggy’s mouth drew into a smile. Occasionally, Matt could be guilted into being a decent human being by apologizing for his mistakes. He hadn’t lost the old Murdock charm, either. “I’ll ask her to stop by.”

Matt nodded gratefully. “Thanks.”

+-+-+-+-+

“Daddy, Daddy, come quickly, something’s wrong with Uncle Matt!” Mia said between panted breaths.

Foggy, rudely awoken from his afternoon nap, was up from the couch in seconds.

“Where is he?”

Mia was dragging Foggy along by one hand.

“Out in the backyard.”

That, in itself, wasn’t that unusual. He sometimes went outside to sit in the patio chair, breathing the fresh air.

“What happened?”

“He was playing with us, and then he said he had to sit down, and then he got real quiet and didn’t get up anymore.”

There was a sudden, tight knot in Foggy’s stomach. He fastened his step, and when he opened the door to the backyard, he saw that Matt was slumped against one of the metal legs of the trampoline that they’d put up there for the girls, Ellie worriedly kneeling next to him.

Foggy hurried over. “Matt?” he said as he crouched down next to him.

Matt let out a small hum. Well, at least that was something. “Matt, are you with me?”

He looked at Ellie. “Did he fall?”

“No. He sat down.”

“So he didn’t hit his head?”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Foggy cupped Matt’s face with his hands and gently lifted it to look Matt in eyes. He looked pale, but Foggy didn’t see any blood. Matt’s eyes were half open. “Matt, buddy, talk to me. What happened?”

Matt hummed again, then mumbled, “Felt lightheaded.”

Okay. Low blood pressure? “Did you pass out?”

“Don’t think so.”

Foggy shifted his weight forward so that he knelt next to Matt. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

Matt’s answer was immediate. “No.” Then he added, “I just got a little dizzy. I’m fine. Just give me a minute.”

Foggy sighed, but it wasn’t like this was an unexpected response. “What day is it?”

That question seemed to confuse Matt for a moment. “I don’t know. Saturday. I think. You’re home.”

“What year is it?”

Matt seemed to roll his eyes. “I don’t have a concussion, Foggy.”

Foggy looked at his girls. “Can you get me a chair?”

They both hurried off, seemingly glad to be able to help. Foggy focused his attention back on Matt. “I’m no expert, but let’s assume this is just your blood pressure taking a dive from overexertion. Lie down for a moment.”

“Foggy…” Matt started to protest, but then the girls came back with one of the patio chairs.

Foggy put the chair next to Matt, removed the chair pillow and put it on the ground. “Lie back on the pillow here, and put your feet up on the chair. Here, let me help you.”

Matt grudgingly did as Foggy said.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mia asked.

“I think he just got a little dizzy because his blood wasn’t pumping well enough. If we put his feet up, his blood can run back to his heart.”

“And that will help him?”

“That’s the theory. Let’s give him some room, girls. I’d like you to go inside. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Thank you.”

Matt looked relieved when the girls went inside. Foggy watched him closely, and it seemed like some of the color was already returning to his face. “How do you feel?”

“Better. Let me sit up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Foggy helped Matt sit back up. Foggy could still feel the bones underneath Matt’s clothes. He had put on some weight in recent weeks, eating regular meals with the family, but he was still too thin for Foggy’s taste.

“I think I want to stand up.”

“Don’t overdo it, Matt. You almost fainted.”

“You’re overdramatizing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, and you know it.”

Matt had that look of stubborn determination on his face that Foggy knew all too well. He started pushing himself up, and all Foggy could do was grab Matt by the upper arm and help him stand upright.

Foggy kept his hold on Matt’s arm. “Let’s get you inside.”

When Matt was making a beeline for the living room, Foggy tugged on his arm. “Oh no, buddy, you’re going to your bed. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Foggy, I’m fine. I just got lightheaded, is all.”

“You’re still recovering from full blown sepsis, not to mention a gunshot wound. It’s only been a month since you got out of the hospital. I don’t need to be a doctor to figure that you need to lie down and take it easy for the rest of day. And I’m not going to argue with you on this. Period.”

Matt grumbled something but relented. They sat him down on the bed where Foggy helped him arrange some pillow behind his back. “Can I get you anything? You should probably drink some water. Let me get you some.”

He poured a glass of water, then thought the better of it and took both the glass and the water filter pitcher. He was halfway satisfied when Matt drank the whole glass. He left both on his nightstand. “Get some rest, okay? Take a nap. I’ll tell the girls to keep the volume down.”

“Thanks,” Matt said in a low voice.

“Any time. Holler if you need anything.”

Matt nodded, and Foggy left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Back in the living room, he sank down on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. Mia and Ellie were suddenly on either side of him, probably having watched from the stairs or a doorframe somewhere.

Foggy drew his arms around their respective shoulders, tugging them closer. “You did good.”

“Is Uncle Matt okay?”

“Yeah. He got dizzy. He’s taking a nap now, so it would be great if you could stay quiet for a bit, let him sleep. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Mia said.

“Is Uncle Matt getting sick again?” Ellie asked.

Foggy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Does he have to go back to the hospital?”

“Because of what just happened?”

Ellie nodded.

“No,” Foggy reassured her. “At least I don’t think so. It’s not serious. He’s just still a little weak. He was very ill, remember? His body still needs to get stronger. You said you were playing with him. What were you doing exactly?”

“We were on the trampoline.”

“And Matt was on the trampoline, too?”

The girls were silent, which was answer enough. Foggy pressed on. “Did you ask him to go on the trampoline with you?”

Mia just shrugged ever so slightly.

Foggy sighed. “He shouldn’t be doing things like that—especially things like jumping around on a trampoline. Or jumping around, period. I mean, he’s _blind_. Did you not think about that?”

“But,” Ellie countered, “you said we shouldn’t treat him any different.”

Foggy let out a breath through his nose. “Yes, I did. And that is still true, but there are things that blind people can’t actually do, or can’t do without special help. And trampoline jumping definitely counts as one of those.

“I know you just wanted to have fun, but you shouldn’t be asking him to run and play with you. He’s been in a hospital bed for a long time. His muscles need to get strong again, and his body needs to get used to doing things normal people do. It’s like…” Foggy tried to find a good analogy, “It’s like when you get the flu, and you lie in bed for a few days. And then you get better, but you still feel a little weak those first day or two. Do you remember that?”

Ellie made an inscrutable grimace, but Mia nodded. “It’s like that for Matt, but it’s going to take him a lot longer to get better, to be strong again to run around and play with you. And we need to help him get there, okay?”

He looked from Mia and Ellie, who both confirmed with, “Okay.”

“No more asking Matt to go on the trampoline, understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie said.

“Okay. Good. Your Mom should be home soon. Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“ _Morkle_ ,” Mia said immediately.

Foggy sighed theatrically. “It feels more like a _Brave_ kind of day. Or _How to Train Your Dragon_.”

“But those are _old_ ,” Ellie complained.

“They’re _classic_ ,” Foggy countered. They finally settled on an animated movie from a few years ago that they had all seen a few times already but that Foggy didn’t mind too much. Joanna came home from her errands about twenty minutes before the end credits.

Foggy let the girls finish the movie without him and took his wife aside, telling her what happened earlier. “Is Matt okay?” was one of her first questions.

“Yeah, I hope he’s sleeping. I’ll go check on him in a minute. He should be fine. I think it was really just another episode of him overestimating what his body is capable of right now.”

“Yeah, like _that_ never happens,” she deadpanned. She knew Matt quite well by now.

Foggy let out a sigh. “Drives me crazy when he does it.” He suddenly had a thought. “Do you— You would tell me if it’s getting too much, right? If you wanna, you know, not have him—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “No, Franklin, it’s fine. I mean, we got this far, why would we give up now?”

He gave her a warm smile, then pulled her in for a kiss. “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”

“Says who?”

“The universe?”

“Or common sense.”

He chuckled. “Or that. Let me go check on Matt.”

“Sure. I’ll get started on dinner. I’m thinking quick and easy. Pasta and meatballs. The kids will love it.”

“Sounds great.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

Foggy left the kitchen and went over to Matt’s room. He listened quietly for a moment, then opened the door a crack to peer in. Matt was lying on his back, his eyes closed. Foggy pulled back, but then Matt softly said, “Foggy?”

He opened the door a little and stood in the doorway. “Yeah. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” Matt pulled himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headboard.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Did you sleep?”

“A little. I listened to some of your movie. It was cute.”

Foggy drew in a breath. “That’s still kinda creepy.”

Matt shrugged. “Sorry.”

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment, and Foggy couldn’t decide whether to dig into the reprimand that was on the tip of his tongue, but Matt pre-empted it when he asked, “Are the kids okay? I probably scared them a little.”

Foggy closed the door behind him and leaned against the changing table on the wall next to the bed. “They’re okay. I explained to them what happened. I think they understand. They were pretty worried.”

Now Matt looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m sorry.”

“You went ahead and jumped on the trampoline with them, didn’t you?”

The kicked puppy expression intensified when Matt lowered his head. Foggy knew this probably wasn’t the time to get into it, but it had to be said, because Matt had scared his children, and what if he had fallen off that thing and hurt himself? Or worse?

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

“They wanted me to.”

“All you’d have had to do was say no.”

“I know.” Matt’s voice was meek.

“And why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

“And you thought it’d be fine, right? Cause you’re Matt frickin’ Murdock and you’re kinda not really blind. And cause a little thing like a bullet and, oh, coming back from being actually dead can’t deter you from a simple thing like bouncing around on a children’s trampoline, right? Cause it’s just a trampoline in Foggy’s backyard with Foggy’s kids. What could go wrong?”

Matt stayed quiet, but Foggy plowed on. “You can’t do that, Matt. They’re kids. They don’t know what your body is capable of. They don’t understand the concept of organ failure and muscle deterioration and long-term side effects, let alone what the limitations of a blind person really mean.

“You need to take responsibility for yourself _and_ for the kids. You have go to learn to listen to your body, and you have got to learn to say no. Cause that’s how _they_ learn. I don’t wanna imagine what would have happened if you’d fainted and fallen off that thing.”

Foggy’s voice had become a lot louder and a lot more forceful than he wanted. He surprised himself just how much of his emotions had suddenly bubbled up to the surface, how much of a protective instinct had kicked in when it came to his children. He looked at Matt, and he could see his chin quiver ever so slightly, his fingers gripping the blanket just a little too tightly. Foggy immediately regretted his outburst.

“I’m sorry,” Foggy said. “That was probably uncalled for.”

“No,” Matt said to Foggy’s surprise. “You’re right. And I fucking _hate_ this. I hate that I can’t do anything. I hate not being myself, being a burden, being a useless piece of shit.”

“Stop right there.” Foggy raised his hand to emphasize the point. “Yes, this whole situation sucks. More for you than for us, probably, but I can definitely say that you’re not a burden. And you’re certainly not a useless piece of shit.

“You’ve just been through a pretty serious ordeal. You need to give yourself time to heal, and let your body do it on its own terms. I know you love pushing your limits, and that was kind of okay when it was just you. But it’s not anymore.”

Matt looked as if he was contemplating something, then said in a low voice, “It never really was, was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, I’ve had some time to think, and there’s something I realized. You’ve always been kind of my moral compass. And when you weren’t there anymore, I think that’s when things started spiraling out of control.

“I mean, I know it’s not exactly fair to put that on you, and that’s not what I mean. I guess I’m just saying that it’s a good thing to have you back in my life.”

Foggy gave him a tentative smile. These last few weeks had certain been an adjustment period, and now that Matt was getting better, was becoming more confident with what his body was capable of, they would have to talk about Matt’s future eventually.

“I don’t know if this is the right time to broach the subject yet, but have you thought about long-term plans?”

Matt shrugged imperceptibly. “I don’t know. I have my own place, and I’m still a lawyer. I don’t see that changing any time soon. Beyond that, I’m not sure that I’ve thought that far ahead.”

“So you wanna move back to your old place?”

Matt looked surprised that Foggy was even asking. “Of course. Isn’t that why we agreed to keep up the rent payments?”

Now it was Foggy’s turn to shrug. “I guess.”

“Were you thinking I would be staying with you indefinitely?”

“Hm. I don’t know. I guess I saw it as a possibility, but…” He rubbed the side of his mouth with his hand. “I don’t know what I was thinking. But, hey, I’m cool with you going back to your own place, if that’s what you want.”

“As much as I like it here, I really would prefer going back to my own apartment.”

“Cause you wanna go back to your… extracurricular activities?” Foggy tried to say it as judgment-free as he possibly could, but he didn’t know if it came out that way.

Foggy could see that it got Matt’s back up immediately. “It’s not like something I can just switch off, you know? I thought you’d have understood that by now.”

Foggy sighed. “Yeah. It’s just… hard. Hard to put myself in your shoes. Impossible maybe, even. It seems like such a monumentally self-indulgent thing, and monumentally reckless and irresponsible at the same time. It almost killed you. I don’t know, maybe I expected that would be a wake-up call, or something.”

“And maybe it was, but it’s more complicated than that. One thing I do know, though. I really appreciate what you did, and what you’re doing—you and your family. That’s more than I deserve.”

“Not sure I agree with that. I get that you’ve had all these experiences that led you down the particular path you’ve been walking, but sometimes a little help from your friends is all it takes. And, I don’t know, maybe I’m hoping you’d have learned through all of this that accepting help isn’t necessarily a sign of weakness.”

“What you’ve done, Foggy, that’s way more than just a little help from your friends. I’m not sure that I can ever repay you for this.”

“And I’m not sure that you need to.”

When Matt didn’t say anything, Foggy looked at him and saw that he was fighting back tears. He guessed that kindness hadn’t been in great supply for Matt in recent years. It reaffirmed Foggy’s conviction that he and Joanna had done the right thing, taking Matt in.

Foggy pushed himself away from the changing table. “I’m really glad that our paths crossed this way, despite the circumstances. And I’m glad you’re here now. Jo likes you, and the kids obviously love you. Please don’t screw this up.”

Matt’s face contorted with an mismatched mix of amusement and emotion. His voice was thick when he said, “I will try my best.”

“Jo’s making dinner. You wanna come eat with us? You need some more meat on those skinny chicken bones of yours.”

That made Matt chuckle out loud. Foggy inquired more seriously, “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah,” Matt said with a brave smile. “I also need some more muscle on those chicken bones of mine.”

“We have a trampoline in the backyard you can practice on.”

“Very funny.”

Foggy reached out a hand to Matt, and like the old days, added commentary. “I’m holding out my hand.”

Matt peeled away the blanket and unerringly took it. “I know.”

Foggy carefully pulled him up to a standing position, ignoring the small grunt from Matt.

“Thank you, Foggy.”

Although he couldn’t be sure, Foggy had a feeling Matt didn’t just mean the proffered hand.

+-+-+-+-+

It took another six weeks for Matt to become fully independent again. Weeks filled with physiotherapy sessions, successes and failures, joys and frustrations, and a whole lot of progress.

Foggy watched it all with a certain sense of satisfaction. The stronger Matt got, the more he started to smile again, to laugh, to look more like a human being and less like a ghost. He saw glimpses of the dorky, highly intelligent man he’d met in college, and he saw glimpses of the rougher sides that tasted of Daredevil. Foggy was still trying to piece together the puzzle that would show the full picture of who Matt Murdock had become in the last ten years.

When it was time for Matt to move back into his own apartment, there were long faces from Mia and Ellie. “We don’t want you to leave,” they told Matt.

He just smiled and said, “I know. I’ll come visit. I promise.”

Foggy chimed in. “You better, or else you will have to contend with the wrath of Franklin Nelson.”

Matt had already said goodbye to the kids in the morning before they went to school. Foggy was going to take Matt into the city, loading the last of Matt’s duffel bags into the trunk of his car. From their driveway, he watched Jo give Matt a long hug. “Don’t be a stranger, Matt.”

“I won’t.” Matt gently pushed out of the embrace as Foggy walked up to them. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Happy to help.”

“No. That was a pretty big ask from Foggy. I know it wasn’t always easy for you. I can’t say thank you enough.”

She smiled warmly at Matt. “Yeah, well, it was pretty weird to accept a relative stranger into your home, but you’re no stranger now. I’m glad it worked out, and it’s pretty great to see how far you’ve come. If Franklin asked me today, I would do it again.”

“You can’t imagine how much that means to me.”

Jo’s smile widened, then she playfully pushed him away. “Now get outta here before I start crying.”

Matt chuckled, then pointed his chin in Foggy’s direction. “Your wife’s officially kicking me out. We better go.”

“Better not argue with the wife. Never ends well. I have experience.”

Foggy resisted the urge to help Matt into the passenger’s seat. It was uncanny how much he’d become used to aiding Matt in everyday tasks, and how difficult it was to let go of that notion.

The drive was quiet with the occasional short conversation here and there. Foggy narrated a few things along the way, unsure how much it was appreciated. Matt was definitely the more taciturn between the two of them.

Of course there was no parking anywhere near the apartment, so Foggy had to drive around the block twice before he found a spot that wasn’t too far to walk. He knew the area by now. They’d been coming here a number of times in the last week or two to get the apartment cleaned and set up.

Matt got out of the car as Foggy got the duffel bag and the two plastic bags with groceries from the trunk. Thankfully, the duffel was the kind that had wheels, but it was still pretty heavy.

Foggy was glad when they finally got to the building that housed Matt’s apartment. He looked at Matt, who seemed to be doing okay. He was slowly on the way to getting back in shape, and longer walks were becoming less of an undertaking.

Matt opened the door that led into the staircase, and they braved the six flights of stairs. By the time they were standing in front of Matt’s apartment door, they were both out of breath. Foggy gave Matt a good-natured clap on the shoulder.

“Look at us. Two old men.”

Matt flashed him a grin. “At least I have an excuse.”

“Yeah, pour salt in the wound, why don’t you. Also, I’ve been lugging all your shit up here. This thing weighs at least fifty pounds.”

“Wimp.”

“Shut up and open the door.”

Matt’s precision with the keys was uncanny, Foggy realized once more. “Open Sesame,” Matt quipped as he pushed the door open.

Matt’s bag was quickly deposited in the bedroom. Matt was leaning against the doorframe, holding onto it with one hand. It was all the clues Foggy needed.

“Okay, let’s get you settled in. Sit down somewhere, take a breath.”

“I’m okay, Foggy.”

“Yeah, sure you are. There no one here you have to prove anything to. Go sit on the couch for a minute while I put these groceries in the fridge.”

To his surprise, Matt complied. Those stairs would be an obstacle for Matt for a while, but Foggy knew Matt would master them faster than most people in Matt’s position.

After stocking kitchen supplies, Foggy helped Matt unpack his clothes. They sorted them into the shelves by color, it was faster when Foggy told Matt what color it was than Matt feeling for the Braille labels.

“Hey,” Foggy remarked, “did you know there’s these two blind brothers who are making clothes especially for blind people? Their clothes are supposed to be super soft.”

Matt nodded. “Yeah. Two Blind Brothers.”

“That’s what I said.”

Matt laughed. “No, that’s what their brand is called.”

“Do you have any of their stuff?”

“No, but I’ve heard of them. Their profits go towards research for blindness.”

“It sounds a 100% like your thing. We should check them out.”

“Sure.”

Foggy went back to the kitchen for one last acceptance check. Everything looked in order, and rationally, Foggy knew Matt could take care of himself. “Well, looks like you’re all set.”

“Yeah.”

“You ready to go back to doing your own thing all by your lonesome?”

Matt sat down in one of the kitchen chairs at the small table. “I don’t know. It feels weird.”

“Well, there’s always a place at our table if you feel lonely.”

“You’d think you’re sick of seeing my ugly mug by now.”

“First: Not ugly. Second: In all seriousness, I totally mean it. Come over whenever you can. The kids love seeing you, and so do Jo and I. I didn’t think I’d say this, but I’ll miss you. Put it through the Braille printer and nail it to your wall, cause I probably won’t be saying it again. At least not in your presence.”

“Aw, thanks,” Matt said in a lovingly mocking tone.

Foggy turned to go, giving Matt a light clap on the back as he passed him on the way to the corridor. “I better go, leave you to revel in the peace and quiet for a change. Call me if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s something really small and stupid. Well, call me, period.”

“I will, Foggy. Thank you again.”

“No, don’t start that again. I think I’ve heard that word a few too many times today. I’m gonna leave before you can say it again. I might check in on you in the next few days. Take care, my friend.”

“You too.”

Foggy gave Matt a last wave, which he hoped Matt could tell before he left the apartment.

On the way back to the car, he mused about whether he wanted to start believing in fate. But whatever had brought him and Matt back together, was something he wanted to thank someone for.

As much of a wild ride as it had been these past few months, Foggy hoped that, this time, the friendship would last for good.

+-+-+-+-+

THE END.


End file.
